


Bird Dog

by eideann



Category: NCIS
Genre: Attempted Drugging, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Dom Gibbs, Dom/sub, Forced Voyeurism, Handcuffs, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-Probie Tim, Sexual Content, Sub Tony, Temporary Imprisonment, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Danger, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 67,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs, Tony and Kate are assigned a case in which a criminal network must be penetrated to uncover evidence that a high-ranking Marine is guilty of multiple serious offenses.  Their selected entry level bad guy is gay, so Tony is elected to go undercover at the man's bar to get his attention and, if all goes as planned, to step far enough into the criminal conspiracy to get the evidence they need.</p><p>Unfortunately, the target has tendencies that were not anticipated, leading to a choice that Gibbs and Tony must separately face in the moment: does Tony allow their target to take liberties with his person, or do they end the operation without gaining anything at all?  Or . . . is there a third option on the table?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, note that I do not have this story listed as Dinozzo/Gibbs. This is deliberate. Please, if you expect the story to end with Tony and Gibbs in a relationship and you will be crushed if that doesn't happen, don't read. While I don't have anything against that pairing, I do not favor it in my writing.
> 
> Second, this is set in 2004, after Gibbs et al have met McGee, but before he has actually joined the team. It honestly seems a little odd to me that, in this situation, they would have brought McGee in specifically, but having McGee as an option, I couldn't see my way clear to using an OC. I do believe in using the resources canon provides before creating OCs. Besides, McGee is so cute in his 'puppy wanting to be kept' persona.
> 
> Third, this story was an experiment in not actually breaking sections between POVs. POV may, in fact, shift within a paragraph, and away again in the next paragraph. The only place you'll find actual section breaks are where there is a time or communication shift between the segments. What I mean by communication shift is that, through much of this story, characters that are separated by a fair distance and not in line of sight of each other are kept in communication by wires/earbuds that allow immediate, interactive speech. Thus, even though Kate is in the parking lot and DiNozzo's in the club, they are in the same scene by virtue of constant communication. To make it a touch simpler, there are only three POVs in the story, Gibbs, DiNozzo and Kate. I think it worked okay, though I've never tried it again. It may be that the peculiar necessity of communication in this story made it work where it might not in another tale. It may be that I tend to pick my POV characters based on who will be separated most of the time, thus making this particular technique irrelevant.

* * *

Kate took another swallow of tepid coffee and adjusted the earbud in her ear.  The third night of this surveillance, and it seemed finally to be getting somewhere.  Tony’s contact had invited him to stay at the bar after closing which definitely suggested that his hints had been picked up.  She nestled deeper in her coat.  Why was it always like this?  Tony sitting plush and warm in a high class bar, drinking expensive alcohol and flirting with the waitresses, while she and Gibbs sat outside in a car on a snowy evening?

Tony finished making an obscene and possibly illegal suggestion to a waitress, and the woman laughed instead of slapping his face.  “Are you drunk, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked beside her.

In a voice Kate had to struggle to hear, Tony said, “No, Boss, just playing the part.”

Gibbs snorted.  “Right, DiNozzo.  Did you get her phone number?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, and Kate rolled her eyes.  “But so would Tony Vellucci.”

“You have a point there, DiNozzo,” Gibbs murmured.

“Closing isn’t for another half hour,” said Albert Marino, Tony’s contact.  “You don’t have to stay out here.  You could move to a private room.  You might be more comfortable there.”

“No, stay in public as long as possible, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.  Kate nodded.

“I’m good out here,” Tony said with just enough of a happy lilt in his voice to hint at intoxication.  “I like watching people.”

“If that’s what you want,” Marino said, sounding slightly put out.  Kate couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was an odd vibe about the man.  They knew he was gay, that was one of the reasons Tony was in there.  A little bait to catch the man’s attention and reel him in, and he had certainly dressed for the part.  She doubted Tony showed that much chest when he went clubbing as himself.  “Mikey,” Marino said, “take good care of my friend here.”

“Try not to drink any more, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said when it was clear that Marino had moved off.

“How stupid do I look?” DiNozzo muttered.  “Thanks, Mikey,” he said in a normal voice.  Kate could imagine him pretending to drink whatever drink he’d been given.

“Do you really want me to answer that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.  “That outfit is . . . out there.”

Kate snickered, but Tony made no response.  He could only spend so much time muttering to himself without people wondering about him.  She thought he was probably fuming internally about his inability to make any of the snappy comebacks that were undoubtedly coming to mind.  Poor Tony, she thought with mock sympathy.

Inside the bar, Tony scowled.  He found it irritating when his colleagues took advantage of his position to make fun of him when they knew he couldn’t offer a defense.  Yes, his clothing was outlandish, but to fill the role he was playing, his fashion sense had to be a bit edgy.  The clientele of this place tended toward the trendy, and he was trying to stand out from the herd.  That his ‘out there’ outfit had neither been purchased nor borrowed but created from an unusual combination of his own clothing worn in ways he’d never normally wear it was his own secret and would remain so if he could swing it.  Kate teased him enough about his fashion sense as it was.

Marino was finally going for the bait, and it was about time.  Tony just wished there was an elegant way to rid himself of his latest drink.  He was running out of ideas.  He could hold his liquor reasonably well, but since he’d spent a good two hours drinking with Marino and his buds in close quarters, he’d had more than enough to make him feel the slightest bit buzzed.  Spilling it would not only be undignified, it would also be far too obvious, and Mikey, taking ‘good care’ of him, would undoubtedly replace it instantly.

He contemplated switching it out with the drink of someone nearby, but that would be hard to explain if he was caught at it.  He knew a guy who’d gotten accused of trying to drug someone when he’d done that.  He was relieved when the man next to him hit it off with the woman he’d been making up to and left.  His drink was the right color, in the right glass, and it was about a third full to Tony’s three-quarters full.  Tony made the swap smoothly and hoped no one would notice that the level of his drink had dropped dramatically from one moment to the next.

Mikey came along a few minutes later, cleaning the bar, and he didn’t seem to notice anything odd.  A third full was also not empty enough to require a fresh drink, another plus.

The bar emptied out, the bouncer having to eject a few people who were too drunk to notice that it was closing time, but finally, Marino came over to Tony’s side.  Mikey had disappeared into the kitchen, and the bouncers had gone wherever bouncers go when things close down for the night.  He and Marino had the bar to themselves.  Marino leaned close.  “So, you want to meet my associates?” he said.

“You said I’d have to meet them before we could do business,” Tony replied, giving Marino a sidelong look.  He wasn’t their real target.  They knew Marino was more a low end distributor than a real mover and shaker.  While they were certain they knew who the next step up was, they would have to find real, solid, credible evidence to bring down a decorated Marine colonel.

“Well, I’d be happy to introduce you, but there are a few conditions.”

“Conditions?” Tony asked, turning and raising an eyebrow.  He’d expected conditions.  The question was if he could meet them.  His cover wasn’t all that deep, and there were limits to the level of criminal behavior an NCIS agent could engage in without specific clearance from above.

Marino was looking at him oddly.  Giving the nearly empty drink in front of Tony a glance, he picked it up and took a sniff.  “What’s this?” he asked.

“The whisky Mikey gave me,” Tony said, not sure what all this meant.

Out in the car, Kate gave Gibbs a worried look.  The question was off-script and she wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  Gibbs’ eyes had narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Hmmph,” Marino said, and his manner was making Tony a little nervous.  He put the glass down, then turned and seemed to be about to walk behind Tony towards the kitchen, but he stopped abruptly behind him.  With unexpected speed, he grabbed Tony’s right wrist and cuffed him to what looked like a decorative railing on the bar, the cuffs coming seemingly out of nowhere.  In the same moment, he slipped Tony’s .38 out of its holster under his arm.

“Hey!” Tony exclaimed.  “What’s going on here?”  He pulled on the cuff.  It didn’t look like police issue – it was exceptionally shiny, and there appeared to be some kind of an engraved pattern on the metal.

“Mikey!” Marino called, still right behind Tony.

“Cuffing me to the bar and stealing my weapon isn’t a great way to start a business relationship,” Tony snarled, aware that he had to let Gibbs and Kate know what was going on.  He didn’t quite know why Marino had done it, though, so he didn’t give the danger word.  They’d put too much work into this job to let it go easily, besides, SecNav was pushing Morrow for progress daily.  Colonel Sullivan was suspected in fraud, embezzlement, graft and the deaths of two young marines, but he had friends in Congress and among the higher ranks that made it imperative to go at him indirectly.

“It’s the only way we’re going to start a business relationship, Tony,” Marino said from close behind him, practically breathing down his neck.  The bartender emerged, and he looked back and forth between Tony and Marino with a startled expression.  “Did you give it to him?” Marino asked.

“I did.”  Mikey gave Tony a speculative look.  “And I’d swear he drank it.”

Marino reached around Tony and picked up the glass.  “Is this it?” he asked, speaking almost into Tony’s ear.  Tony twitched away.

Kate was listening in growing alarm, wishing they had a camera feed on Tony.  “Gibbs, what’s going on?” she asked.

“You know what I know,” he said grimly, his hand over the mike so that he wasn’t transmitting to Tony.

“Should we go in?”

“He hasn’t called us.”

Kate grimaced.  Tony had a tendency towards overconfidence, but pointing that out probably wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Tony didn’t like having Marino this close.  He could smash him in the stomach, but he didn’t have cuff keys on him, and the bouncers might not be all that far away.  He’d better play it cool for now.

Mikey came over and took the glass, giving it a sniff.  He glanced suspiciously at Tony.  “No.  Glenlivet, like always.”

“What’s going on here?” Tony asked, his voice hard with anger.  “Are you going to uncuff me?”

“No, I don’t think so, Vellucci,” Marino said, handing the .38 off to the bartender as well.  Mikey shrugged, took it, and went back into the kitchen.  Tony’s alarm was increasing, but he still didn’t want to call the op.  They wouldn’t get another chance.  “Why didn’t you drink what Mikey gave you?” Marino asked.

If Tony were really Tony Vellucci, he’d be demanding release and insisting that there was no way he’d do business with this bastard, but he didn’t know if he dared make such a play.  If Marino agreed, they’d be worse off than square one.  “I didn’t want another drink,” he said.  “Okay?  What’s the big deal?  What was in it?”

“Something that would have made the conditions easier for you,” Marino said softly.

“What, you were going to drug me to meet your associates?” Tony asked.  “Don’t you trust me?”

“Oh, trust is something you earn in this business, Vellucci, and you aren’t there yet,” Marino said.  “But no, it’s not a matter of trust.  You were never meeting my associates tonight.”

“Then what the hell is this about?” Tony demanded, rattling the cuff.  “What conditions?”

“You honestly think you can come into my bar, wave your ass around for three nights running, flirt and play hard to get, and not have your ass be one of the conditions?” Marino said, and Tony’s eyes widened.  He’d already turned down a pass, but Marino hadn’t seemed to mind, and he hadn’t made another one.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Tony said.  “And all I’m interested in is a business relationship.”  Fingers on the small of his back made him flinch and turn around.  He glared at Marino.  “What did you try and give me?”

“Too late now, Vellucci,” Marino said with a grin.  “You only get one chance for the easy way.”

“I’m not asking for your damned drugged drink,” Tony snapped.  “Let me out of this cuff, give me back my gun, and we can quit this right here.”

Gibbs shook his head.  They’d put a lot of effort into this op, a lot of resources.  Tony hadn’t used any of the words or phrases that meant he was getting out, so Gibbs knew he was bluffing, hoping to talk Marino out of the course of action he seemed to have chosen.

“It’s too late for that, too,” Marino said, and his voice sounded deeper than it had before.  Gibbs wondered if he were closer to Tony’s microphone.  “I’ve been promising myself a piece of you since you showed up.”

“Gibbs!” Kate hissed.

Marino kept talking.  “Just relax and think of all the money you’re going to make.”

“I’m not playing along with this, Marino,” Tony said, his voice low and determined.

“I’ve got three guys in the next room who will make you, and if you don’t want to do business after that, well, fine.”  There was a pause during which Gibbs could only imagine what was going on – and what was going through Tony’s mind.  “But you aren’t getting out of here till I’m done with you, so you might as well play the game.”

Gibbs grimaced.  Morrow would understand if they ended this right now and went in, guns blazing.  Tony was clearly not getting out of there on his own.  Still, they had a dirty Marine colonel to catch.  Letting on that this was an op would make the man burrow deeper, and they might never find proof of his crimes.  Tony clearly wasn’t going to call it yet, but Gibbs wasn’t prepared to let his agent be raped to catch the bastard, even if Tony were willing to go that far.


	2. Chapter 2

Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing. Tony had to be crazy not to have called them in by now. "Gibbs, we can't let this happen," she said in an undertone. Then she watched in consternation as Gibbs suddenly dug out his wallet, badge holder and cell phone and tossed them on the floor by her feet. "Gibbs?"

He pulled his headset off and dropped it in her lap. "Remember, I won't be able to hear you. You'll only be able to communicate with DiNozzo."

"Gibbs, what are you doing?"

"Not letting this happen," he said. "Give me one of the drop phones we have ready for Tony."

Stunned, she dug one of them out. "What are you going to do?"

"My name is Gibson Jasper Howe. Get Abby working up a background on me. Make me borderline respectable, a former marine, I'll get the details later." With that, he got out of the car and strode off towards the bar.

She stared after him for a long moment, utterly flabbergasted. Then she called Abby, trying to listen in on the progress of events while she explained what she needed to the Goth. One thing she knew for sure, Tony still hadn't called them in, so he was going to be a little startled when he saw Gibbs. She didn't dare say anything to him over the mike at this point for fear that Marino was close enough to hear the warning.

Though fear was threading through his belly, Tony still hadn't given up on talking Marino out of his insane proposition. If and when he did, he'd have to call the others in and hope he got out of here alive. Marino seemed to be enjoying the whole menacing thing and clearly wasn't in any hurry, so he had a few minutes to keep trying to change his mind.

"Give me a break," Tony said, going on the offensive. "You sound like a villain in a bad romance novel."

Marino's expression darkened. "Do I?" he asked, taking a step towards Tony who refused to quail back. For one thing, he knew he wasn't getting raped. The minute it sounded like Tony had lost control of the situation, Gibbs and Kate would be inside and dealing with things. He might get shot then, but not raped. Marino put his hand out to cup Tony's cheek, and Tony jerked sideways to avoid the touch. Marino grabbed the front of Tony's shirt and leaned close. "If you fight me, Vellucci, I'll call the boys in. I don't think you'd enjoy that."

Tony reached out with his free hand and shoved. "Let me go, you son of a bitch. I've got friends who won't like this."

Marino grinned. "You're going to tell your friends you got messed up by a fag?" he asked with a chuckle. "I don't think so." He brought his hand up and stroked the back of Tony's arm, bared by the rolled up sleeve of his D&G shirt. Unnerved slightly by this gentle response to his shove, Tony jerked his arm away, inadvertently bashing his elbow against the bar. Marino took a step closer so that there were only inches between them. In a lightning fast move, he whipped out another cuff and snapped it around Tony's left wrist.

"Son of a bitch!" Tony growled, jerking his left arm free and punching Marino in the face. The free end of the cuffs impacted slightly after the punch. The other man fell back with a curse, and Tony yanked on the cuff that was already attached to the bar. The railing was stronger than it looked, though. He kicked out when Marino came towards him again, to ward him off, but Marino dodged and came in with single-minded determination. He ignored Tony's legs and focused all his attention on Tony's left arm, shoving it back and cuffing it to the bar railing as well.

Kate listened with intense frustration. She hadn't been able to see Gibbs since he'd slipped around the corner to the bar's entrance, and all she could hear over the wire were the sounds of struggle. Tony was still growling and yelling, and he still hadn't uttered the words that should call her in. Now, though, even if he did, she wasn't sure what she should do. If she went barreling in now, she might screw up whatever Gibbs had planned.

"Gibson Jasper Howe, huh?" Abby said, and Kate nodded.

"Quick as you can. God knows how soon they'll take the time to check it, but Gibbs is going in now."

"Got it, Kate. What's up? Is Tony in trouble?"

Kate grimaced. "Yeah. Of course he is. It's Tony."

"What? What kind of trouble?"

"Not now, Abby," Kate said, listening to Tony's grunts of pain in her ear.

"Look, there's a chance of really good business here," Tony said suddenly. "But it's going nowhere if you don't uncuff me now."

"What makes you think I need your business, Vellucci?" Marino asked sardonically.

"Are you saying you're overextended? That you can't handle the extra trade?" Tony demanded, hoping that he could sting Marino's pride in that direction. "Or maybe you're afraid your associates will like me better."

Marino grabbed Tony's crotch in an agonizing grip, causing Tony's voice to choke off. He squeezed hard and then let go, and Tony, robbed of his hands, fell to his knees with a groan. Marino tangled his fingers in Tony's hair and forced his head back. Still gasping from the pain in his groin, Tony stared up at him in alarm. Marino smiled down at him maliciously and started unzipping his pants. Tony was trying to draw in enough breath to call the op when he heard a voice that made him freeze in surprise.

"Back off now!" Gibbs ordered. His voice was calm, but no less deadly for that, and Tony couldn't see him.

Marino turned, one hand in his fly, the other still gripping Tony's hair. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Back off or I will shoot you," Gibbs said, and Tony believed him.

Evidently Marino did as well. He released Tony's head with a snap that smacked him back against the bar and stepped away, doing up his fly as he went. "Who are you?" Marino demanded of Gibbs. "And what are you doing in my bar?"

"He's mine," Gibbs said, gesturing with his head towards Tony. Tony stared at him in shock. He didn't appear to be playing NCIS agent at all, and it wasn't his Sig he had pointed at Marino. It was his back up.

"What of it?"

"He's here for my business, not your pleasure," Gibbs said, crossing to Tony's side. He cupped Tony's chin and lifted his face, looking into Tony's eyes, never taking his gun off Marino. Apparently satisfied, he released the hold and turned back to Marino. Tony stared down at the floor, heart beating fast. Gibbs was here, Gibbs had stopped it, but he hadn't ended the op. That added a whole new level of complication to the situation, but it still left them with a chance to catch Colonel Sullivan. "I thought you were a businessman," Gibbs said disparagingly to Marino. "Evidently I was wrong. I'll be taking my money and connections elsewhere."

"Wait just a minute," Marino said, now looking alarmed. "How did you . . . why did you come in just then?"

Gibbs gave Marino a disgusted look. "You really think I sent my boy in here without back up? With your reputation?"

"Thanks Boss," Tony said, his voice and breathing finally under control again.

"Shut up," Gibbs snapped.

"Yes Boss," Tony said, lowering his head.

Marino glared at Tony. "You didn't say you worked for someone else," he said accusingly.

A gentle hand on Tony's head stopped him from speaking. "I ordered him not to," Gibbs said. "It was a test. One you failed. I'll have to go with Corsely now." Tony saw where he was going, and grinned faintly at the floor. Corsely was Marino's chief rival. He was at roughly the same level, but in a different syndicate. Gibbs gestured with the gun. "Unlock him."

Marino looked down on Tony, an oddly calculating look in his eye. "Can't we come to some kind of an arrangement?" he said after a moment. "I didn't realize that I was poaching on claimed territory. Your boy is an incorrigible flirt."

"That was kind of the point," Gibbs said, but he sounded somewhat less hostile. In fact . . . Tony glanced up, hoping Gibbs didn't sound or look uncertain. He didn't, he looked calculating.

"If I'd know he was someone else's property, I would never have put the moves on him, but you can surely see the appeal." Gibbs nodded slowly. "Can I offer you a drink and maybe we can talk?"

"Give me a sealed bottle, and we'll give it a try," Gibbs said. "And unlock him."

Marino walked over with the keys and unlocked the cuffs. Tony wasn't really sure he wanted the bastard that close to him, but he was all business in the process. He took the cuffs and pocketed them, then turned towards the back of the bar. "This way," he said. Gibbs gave Tony a hand up, and Tony followed him, moving a little slowly. His groin was still none too comfortable. They went further back into the building, and Tony wondered what he should call Gibbs. Boss clearly worked, though it couldn't be all. He had to have a name picked out. Where was Kate? Was she still in the car, or was she running back up somewhere?

Gibbs followed Marino into a private room that had several chairs around a coffee table. It also had a private bar and a TV set with DVD player. He'd recognized an undercurrent of something he wasn't sure how to handle in the way Marino was interpreting his behavior with DiNozzo. Apparently he'd laid claim to DiNozzo in a way that made the younger agent his property. Trying to play to that somewhat, he fixed DiNozzo with a stern look and pointed towards one of the chairs. DiNozzo, always sensitive to subtleties, immediately sat down without speaking. Gibbs turned to Marino and raised an eyebrow. "What exactly is there to talk about?"

"Business," Marino said.

"I thought you didn't need our business," Tony said snidely.

"Vellucci!" Gibbs snapped, and Tony subsided instantly. Gibbs turned back to Marino. "He makes a good point, though. You were willing to forego business with him."

"He is clearly not a senior player," Marino said, dismissing DiNozzo with a glance. "You are. So far as I was concerned, he was a bit player trying to seem important. I was willing to give him an intro, but he had to pay for the privilege."

"And I don't?"

"I think my associates would like to meet you," Marino said. Jutting his chin towards Tony, he added, "He would have been safer meeting them as my subordinate than as an independent."

"Subordinate?" Tony exclaimed, and Gibbs turned a glower on him. Tony rose. "I've had enough of this, Boss. We should just go."

"Sit down, Vellucci," Gibbs ordered, and Tony mastered what Gibbs assumed was a manufactured irritation and reseated himself.

"If you don't mind my asking, what's your name, sir?" Marino asked.

"Gibson Howe," Gibbs said, and he noticed DiNozzo's eyes flashing his way briefly. "Mr. Marino, after this demonstration, you're going to have to be very persuasive. I don't appreciate people touching my property without permission."

Tony flushed faintly and looked down. Having Gibbs talk about him like that made him feel very weird since it was quite evident now that Gibbs knew exactly what he was implying.

"I had no way of knowing he was yours," Marino said. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you a drink?"

"You can get me a bottle of good bourbon and a glass," Gibbs said, settling regally into a chair that had a good view of the room. "You'll forgive me if I don't want you serving me a drink after what you tried to do to Vellucci."

"It's a kindness, really," Marino said, bringing over a bottle of Maker's Mark and a highball glass and handing them both to Gibbs.

"Drugging the poor bastards before you rape them is a kindness, huh?" Gibbs replied with a twisted grin that made Tony wonder what he was thinking. "Whatever." He opened the bottle and poured himself three fingers.

"Do you want me to give your boy a drink?" Marino asked.

Gibbs took a sip of his bourbon, then tilted his head and looked over at Marino. "I think I'll kill you if you ever try to give him a drink again," Gibbs said, his voice perfectly calm and conversational, but the expression on his face as he looked at Marino made Tony shiver internally. He was glad that wasn't directed at him. "Now, you had business you wanted to discuss."

Marino got himself a neat whisky and sat down across from Gibbs. That put Tony's would-be rapist less than three feet away from him, which did not make Tony happy. "Is what Vellucci told me about the opportunities he could offer accurate?"

"As far as it went," Gibbs replied.

Marino's brows went up at the implication that there could be more. "Then I really think I should introduce you to my associates."

"Your superiors, you mean?" Gibbs asked.

Marino flushed faintly. "I guess," he said, then he shrugged. "I've already made the arrangements for Thursday night, in anticipation of Vellucci's . . . cooperation."

Tony narrowed his eyes and glared at the bastard. If he hadn't refused that drink, Marino might have gotten a lot farther before Gibbs and Kate realized what was wrong. How many idiots had been tricked into Marino's clutches that way? There was no way they'd ever know, but if he had anything to say about it, Marino was going to prison as a rapist. He'd be real popular in there with that tag.

"Cooperation is an interesting word for it," Gibbs said, and Marino's eyes flashed with irritation. "Fine, Thursday works for me. Now, I can't imagine what else we have to talk about, Marino."

"I do have one question," Marino said. He stood up and walked around behind Tony. Not wanting to give away just how freaked out that made him, Tony feigned nonchalance, but then he felt Marino's hands descend on his shoulders, one of them sliding down to slip inside the front of his shirt. He froze, knowing he didn't dare respond without risking the new turn their cover had taken. "How attached are you to Vellucci? Is it personal, or is there any possibility of an exchange? I am doing a service for you, introducing you to my superiors."

Gibbs rose to his feet and loomed over Marino. He looked pointedly at the hand inside Tony's shirt. "How attached are you to your fingers?" he asked.

Marino removed his hands from Tony's person and stepped back. "Fine, I get it." Tony let out a discreet sigh of relief, feeling a bit like a bone being pulled between two alpha dogs. Fortunately for him, Gibbs was about as alpha as they came.

"What time Thursday?" Gibbs asked.

"Let's say ten," Marino said.

"Vellucci?" Gibbs ordered and Tony stood up and followed him out of the room. They exited the bar and headed around the corner to the car where Kate was waiting behind the wheel. Tony slipped into the back seat with a sigh of relief. The plan had called for him catching a cab, but the plan was shot to hell. Gibbs slid into the front passenger seat. "Kate?" he said, and she put the car into gear and took off.


	3. Chapter 3

Thursday evening, Tony stuffed his clothes into his bag, careless of what was crushed or wrinkled in the process. Not only had Gibbs refused to let him join him on the meet tonight, but Morrow had decided, in his infinite wisdom, that Tony should consult with a counselor. She had interviewed him, asked him a lot of ridiculous and unconnected questions, then nixed his involvement in the entire op. He had pled his case till the last possible moment, then, unable to cope with watching McGee suit up to be Gibbs' back up with Kate, he left the office for dinner.

Now he was packing up his gear from Tony Vellucci's hotel room preparatory to going home. He had a feeling that Morrow and Gibbs would frown on his coming alone, but it didn't exactly matter. All the key players were at the meet tonight. Now was the perfect time to clean out his part of the op. Besides, their story was that Vellucci was leaving town tonight, so his stuff had better go, too.

He shouldered the duffel and did a quick sweep of the room. He tended to spread himself around a place a little, and he'd actually stayed here a night or two early in the op for verisimilitude. He checked the bathroom and the closet again, then, satisfied, he headed to the door. When he opened it, he came face to face with Albert Marino, an enormous shiner of Tony's creation gracing his right eye. A second, lighter bruise marked where the handcuff on Tony's wrist had struck. Two of the bully boy bouncers from the club flanked him. The two bouncers were both broad, but one of them was fairly short, not above five eight or so. The other was taller than Tony.

He fumbled for his shoulder holster as Marino and his boys shoved him back into the room. They shut the door behind them.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, not sure whether he was Tony DiNozzo or Tony Vellucci, but certain that he'd better figure it out soon.

"Does Gibson know you're leaving him?" Marino asked. Vellucci then. He ran his cover identity over in his mind, hoping he was getting the reactions right. The two bully boys converged on Tony and took the gun from his hand, tossing it on the bed. They grabbed his duffel and handed it to Marino, then shoved him face first against the wall to search him a little more thoroughly than he liked. They threw his back up weapon on the bed, too, then just held him against the wall. He was totally freaked out, but he kept it out of his voice and posture as much as possible.

"I'm not," Tony said, remembering the excuse Gibbs and Morrow had come up with to explain Tony's absence if he was missed. "He's got another job for me. Doesn't like to keep me idle."

"Ah, yes, you're his bird dog, right?" Marino asked. Tony sneaked a peek and saw that Marino was dumping his stuff out of the bag onto the bed. "None of his stuff's here. I'm surprised, I'd have expected you to room together."

"He has a room in one of the more expensive hotels," Tony said, knowing it for truth. "I'm here to suit my cover, and we spent the nights together there."

"So that's why you have no lube, no condoms, no nothing?" Marino asked, dropping the duffel on top of Tony's stuff.

"Why would I need them?" Tony asked, his heart rate speeding up faster and faster.

Marino waved at the guys who were holding him and they let him go, though they stayed on either side of him, ready if he tried to get away. Tony turned, putting his back to the wall, deeply alarmed by the situation, but miming comfort so as not to give himself to his enemies through body language. Regardless, there would be no Gibbs and Kate to come to his rescue this evening. Not even McGee, though he'd rather keep the kid out the way, really.

"What if you hooked up with someone?" Marino asked, walking towards Tony and stopping about four feet off, outside Tony's space bubble.

"I don't hook up with people," Tony replied, affecting an air of unconcern.

"You got the phone numbers of three waitresses, and I don't know how many patrons while you were hanging out in the bar," Marino pointed out. "How do you suppose Gibson would like knowing that?"

Tony grinned at him, a reaction that clearly startled Marino. "He loves it. It's a game, and phone numbers are a way of keeping score."

"Then it's a game you clearly play well," Marino said with a sly leer. "You could have gotten my phone number."

"Girls only," Tony said, disturbed by Marino's clear continued interest. "The Boss gets a little jealous."

"Yeah, I noticed that, so I was a little surprised when you didn't show up with him tonight."

Tony kept his face in a mocking smile with an effort. He'd known there was a reason he should be with Gibbs tonight, but he hadn't known how to explain why. "This job was already set up," Tony replied. "You think we were going to change our plans for the likes of you?"

Marino took another step forward. "I think maybe you should have. My boss wants a look at you."

"Well, Gibson doesn't make his plans based on what your boss wants," Tony said. "Back off now if you know what's good for you."

"Are you threatening me, bird dog?" Marino asked, taking another step.

"Gibson wouldn't like this, and I have my instructions."

"What are your instructions, bird dog?" Marino asked, clearly laughing at him as he took a final step that put him less than a foot away from Tony. "Hmmm?" the man asked mockingly.

Tony lashed out with a fist to Marino's jaw, and the fight that followed was embarrassingly short and most definitely not sweet. Tony wound up bent over the desk, his face pressed into the blotter. Handcuffs came out and he felt fear wind through his gut as he felt them close around his wrists. He couldn't see them, but he'd lay odds they were those pretty engraved ones. Someone, probably one of the bouncers, grabbed him by the upper arms, turned him around and forced him to his knees.

Marino walked forward and stroked his fingers through Tony's hair. Tony made to jerk away, but Marino's fingers grabbed, and he found himself forced to look up at the other man. Was this going where it had almost gone on Tuesday? Tony glared up at Marino defiantly so as to avoid shaking in his shoes.

"You are going to meet my boss tonight," Marino said in a matter-of-fact tone. Tony was breathing hard from the effort he'd expended, and Marino grinned evilly down at him. He bent and cupped Tony's chin in his hand. "Don't worry, Gibson will be there. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

Gibbs was going to have an apoplexy. The shorter of the bouncers left first, and Tony remained on his knees, only glad that Marino had walked away instead of trying to demand more than Tony was willing to give. After about five minutes, the taller bouncer pulled him to his feet and undid the cuffs. He then put his arm around Tony's shoulders and pressed a gun into Tony's ribs just at heart height. The combined volume of their winter coats neatly hid the weapon from casual view, but Tony knew that the thick layers of winter-weight fabric wouldn't stop a bullet.

The three of them went to the elevator, but it was past eleven on a Thursday night. The halls weren't exactly teeming with people. Even if he'd had the inclination, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to ask for help. The elevator let out in the parking lot, and the short guy had already pulled up right outside. Tony let himself be hustled into the car and wound up with Marino on one side and the bouncer on the other. The bouncer grabbed his arms and, turning him, forced his wrists together behind him. Marino cuffed him again.

"Is that really necessary?" Tony demanded.

"Maybe not, but it's sure fun," Marino said. He then added another thrilling touch. He placed a blindfold over Tony's eyes and Tony felt him buckle it tightly in back. He then stuffed a wad of cloth into Tony's mouth followed by a cylinder of rubber that was placed crossways, like a bit. It, too, buckled behind Tony's head. Once Tony was blindfolded and gagged, Marino dropped his hand to fondle Tony's groin. Tony jerked sideways, trying ineffectually to get away, and Marino laughed. "It's too bad I have my instructions, too," he said regretfully, removing his hand.

When the car finally stopped, Tony had a suspicion that he knew where they were. He heard the car doors open, and the tall bouncer guided him out of the car. The way the sounds of their feet and the car doors opening and closing echoed told him that they were in some kind of parking garage. The club had external parking, so he began to worry.

They took him to stand between the two bouncers, one on each arm. The slight difference in the feel of the floor beneath his feet made him wonder, and then he heard elevator doors close. The club was all on one level, so there was no need for an elevator. Where the hell was he? Had Sullivan moved the meeting or was he going to get to meet Sullivan afterwards? No, Marino had said Gibbs would be there. Tony swallowed. And Marino had no reason to lie, did he?

Nobody knew where he was. Abby might be surprised that he wasn't hanging around the lab so he could listen in on the surveillance, and he would undoubtedly have gone there after he'd grabbed his stuff and cooled off a little.

His cell phone rang, and Tony knew a moment of fear. He didn't have Tony Vellucci's cell phone, he had Tony DiNozzo's phone. Or rather Marino had it. He shifted and Tony knew he was digging the phone out of a pocket. "Who is Abby?" he asked, but Tony couldn't answer him. Marino turned off the ringer without answering.

The elevator only went up one floor, and Tony wondered if the club had a basement. It might have a loading area, which could explain an underground garage and an elevator. They took him down some hallways and into a room where they sat him in a chair with his arms behind the back. Someone did something to the cuffs that hooked him in firmly so that he couldn't get out of the chair. Hands unbuckled the gag and removed the wad of cloth.

"Hey, what's going on here?" he demanded, but no one spoke. The chair didn't move as Tony struggled, so either it was heavy or it was bolted down. "Let me go, you sons of bitches!" he yelled, but, again, there was no response. Then he heard the door open, there were footsteps going out, and then the door closed after. He couldn't tell if he was in light or darkness. All he knew was that he was in trouble, and that Gibbs was in trouble by extension. And Gibbs probably didn't even know it yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs struggled to control his growing irritation.  This meeting wasn’t going as well as he’d have liked.  He’d arrived ten or so minutes early, and Marino had greeted him with a sly question about where Tony was.  He’d given their cover story, and Marino had told him to wait.  About five minutes later, he’d escorted him to the same private room as before where he found Sullivan waiting with a couple of goons.

He’d been surprised to see the man’s clothing.  He was wearing skin tight leather pants, a loose silk shirt with a silk tie and boots, all in black.  He also wore a studded leather wristband, rather like something Abby might wear.  All very unexpected for a marine colonel.  Gibbs himself was wearing an expensive suit, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Gibbs had been provided with a fresh, unopened bottle of Maker’s Mark, and then Sullivan, too, had asked after Tony.  After Gibbs had explained that Tony was working elsewhere, Sullivan had sent Marino away, and they’d gotten to talking.  At first, things had seemed reasonable, but they were now starting the second hour of going absolutely nowhere.

A bouncer walked into the room and walked up to speak quietly in Sullivan’s ear.  Taking the opportunity, Gibbs rose.  “If you’re not willing to get down to business this evening, I think I’ll call it a night,” he said.  “Perhaps you can have your boy call me later and set up another meeting.”  He wondered what had gone wrong.  Sometimes an op just soured and you never found out why.  He hoped that wasn’t the case this time.  They had to nail this bastard.  The more time Gibbs spent with him, the more sure he was that their suspicions were dead on the money.

“Actually, I’ve got something to show you that I think might interest you, Gibson,” Sullivan said, standing up as well.

“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Sullivan smiled, and Gibbs didn’t like the smile.  “It’s a surprise, my friend,” he said.

Gibbs shrugged and said, “Fine.”

Sullivan led him out the door and to the left, away from the bar.  “I was disappointed that you didn’t bring your Mr. Vellucci, tonight,” he said.

“Vellucci’s busy elsewhere,” Gibbs replied shortly.  He didn’t like all this interest in Tony, and he wanted to make that clear.

“But you see, when a man wants to do business with me, and he sends his pet out of harm’s way, it makes me nervous,” Sullivan said, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the back of the man’s head.  Pet?  Was Tony’s absence responsible for the merry-go-round?  Sullivan opened a door and led Gibbs into a dim room with a large mirror set into the wall, clearly one-way glass.  The room on the other side of the glass was pitch black.  “And I so wanted to see him for myself after Marino’s description . . . that I sent for him.”

At that moment, the bouncer hit the lights in the other room, and Gibbs saw Tony sitting in a chair on the other side.  His arms were clearly tied behind him somehow, and he was wearing a blindfold.  He twisted and jerked as he struggled against the bonds that held him, and his mouth was moving, but Gibbs couldn’t hear him.  He didn’t look hurt, just angry and alarmed, but Gibbs was ready to kill someone.  Little as he thought of Commander Stevens’ decision to ban Tony from the op altogether, he himself didn’t want Tony within a stone’s throw of Marino, certainly not posing as Gibbs’ submissive lover.  It gave him too few protections.  Now he was not only far too close, he was immobilized.  And the way Sullivan was looking at him set off alarms in Gibbs’ head.

Anger surged.  His hand went for his Sig, but he heard two guns cocking, one behind him and one to his left.  He moved his hand away and settled for glowering at Sullivan.  “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Relax, Gibson,” Sullivan said.  “Nothing’s been done to him.”

“Why is he here?” Gibbs demanded.  “He’s got a job to do, and he’s missing his flight.”

“I already told you, having you try to put your pet out of my reach just before we started our business makes me uneasy.  It makes me wonder what you’re planning to pull.”

Gibbs heard Tony’s ring tone, and they both turned towards Marino, who dug out the phone.  “This is the second call from someone named Abby,” he said.

Gibbs wrenched the phone out of the other man’s hands and answered it.  “Abby?  Tony’s going to be late.”

“Gibbs?  What’s . . . why do you . . .”

“Get started on your own,” he ordered, and hung up before she had a chance to make a response, pocketing the phone in a smooth, quick motion.

“Who was that?” Sullivan asked.

“Someone we work with from time to time,” Gibbs said.  “Vellucci was going to meet her.”  He could tell that Sullivan wanted the phone, but since Gibbs knew it was DiNozzo’s work phone, he wasn’t giving it up without a fight, something Sullivan clearly didn’t want to engage in just now.  “All right, we’re done.  Get Vellucci out here and we’ll be leaving.”

“Hold up there, Gibson,” Sullivan said.  “I haven’t even met your friend yet.”

“And I don’t intend for you to.”

“Don’t trust him to resist my manly charms, huh?” Sullivan asked, his amused superiority grating against Gibbs’ fury.

Reining in his temper, Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  That thought had truly never occurred to him.  “It’s not him I don’t trust,” he said with an unfriendly smile.

“Oh?  Then you don’t trust your own ability to protect him?”

“I don’t trust a man who pulls my boy off a job I need him doing for a lark,” Gibbs replied, walking very close to Sullivan.  “And my decision to send him on to Austin had nothing to do with either you or Marino.  Get him out here now.”

Sullivan didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Gibbs, but Gibbs had played the back and forth game of intimidation for years.  They were both putting on a show.  The question was whose show would last longer.  “You ready to negotiate our deal?” Sullivan asked.

“I’m ready to leave now.”

“You leave now, you leave without Vellucci,” Sullivan said flatly.

“That’s not happening,” Gibbs said just as flatly.

“Well, then, let’s adjourn to the meeting room again.”  Gibbs glanced over at DiNozzo.  “All of us, and if you agree to my conditions, you can even take him home with you.”

“Just what conditions would those be?”

“I’ll explain them once we’re all settled, Gibson,” Sullivan said with exaggerated patience.

Grinding his teeth, Gibbs followed because he didn’t have much choice.  He certainly couldn’t leave Tony here, and he hadn’t heard from his back up since he’d left the meeting room.  By now they had to know something was wrong, but they weren’t to enter unless he went out of contact for 90 minutes, and it hadn’t been that long yet.  Abby had also undoubtedly contacted them by this point, so they knew that Tony was back involved.

He followed Sullivan to the meeting room, where cushions had now been placed beside the chairs he and Sullivan had occupied.  A young man with dark hair and light eyes knelt half-naked on the cushion beside Sullivan’s chair.  He wore leather pants, a black spiked collar with matching wrist cuffs, and nothing else.  His nipples were pierced and there were chains running from the collar to each of the piercings.  His body showed clear evidence of both recent and long term physical abuse.  Sullivan walked over to the chair, sat down, and rested his hand on the back of the young man’s head.  The boy flinched, but then, when no abuse was offered, he leaned into Sullivan’s hand.

Sullivan smiled down at his . . . the terminology Gibbs had studied briefly flitted through his head.  Slave seemed to fit the look and behavior of the young man.  It made Gibbs profoundly uncomfortable, but he knew that there were people who sought out this kind of relationship.

“This is Nathan,” Sullivan said.  “He is mine as Vellucci is yours, but I don’t permit him a surname.  If he makes the grade, I may have him legally adopt mine, but he’s a long way off from earning that privilege.”  Nathan’s eyes flitted up, but he didn’t actually look at his master.  He leaned into the hand again and Sullivan reached down and gave one of the nipple chains a tweak that made Nathan wince.  “Still, boy!” he snapped sharply, and Nathan went statue-still.  After a brief pause, Sullivan smiled again and looked at Gibbs.  “For now he serves me in a variety of capacities, but none so proactive as your boy’s service.”  He tilted his head.  “What was it Marino called him?  Your bird dog?”

Gibbs wondered what was keeping his ‘bird dog.’  “That’s an apt description,” he said.  “Where is he?”

Sullivan smiled and Gibbs thought seriously about shooting him.

“Gibbs, is Tony there?” asked Kate’s voice in his ear.  “Abby says you answered his phone.”

The door opened before he could think of any way of subtly answering her question.  In the time since he’d seen him, Tony had been stripped of his shoes and shirt.  Gibbs’ jaw set angrily.  There were bruises coming in on his agent’s arms, and the cuffs had been replaced after he’d been disrobed.  The blindfold was still there, and Tony stood rock solid and vibrating with contained anger.  Gibbs suspected that the only reason he wasn’t fighting was the man who stood beside him with a gun pressed into his ribs.

“Son of a bitch!” Gibbs growled, shooting to his feet.

“I guess that answers that,” Kate’s voice said in his ear, then she went silent again.

Tony turned his head towards Gibbs the moment he spoke, and Sullivan chuckled.  “‘He hears his master’s voice,’” he quoted mockingly.  Tony didn’t respond, didn’t so much as turn his head towards the bastard, and Gibbs was relieved to see it.  He wondered how much research Tony had done, hoping to reverse his, Morrow’s and Commander Stevens’ decision.

“I didn’t authorize that,” Gibbs added in a calmer voice.

“He is a pet, a slave,” Sullivan said silkily.  “He has no right to clothing in this room unless I permit it, guest or not.  Be glad I didn’t strip him bare.”  Sullivan rose as well, handing his glass off carelessly to Nathan, who took it and held it reverently.  He walked towards Tony and put a hand out towards his chest.

Gibbs took two steps forward and intercepted the other man’s reach.  “You touch him, I take your fingers off,” Gibbs said, his tone quietly forbidding.

“Get your hand off me,” Sullivan said.

“Then keep your hands off my property,” Gibbs replied, releasing Sullivan’s wrist.  “Him too,” he added, glaring at the guy with the gun.

Sullivan nodded and the guard let go of Tony’s arm and stepped away.  Gibbs unbuckled the blindfold and threw it at the guard.  Tony blinked several times, but didn’t otherwise react.  Gibbs pointed towards the cushion, and Tony walked over and sank down to his knees with surprising grace.  His eyes darted everywhere in the room, and Gibbs didn’t see any sign of the ‘severe mental distress’ Stevens had predicted if Tony should participate in any way in the mission to bring Sullivan in, but then again he’d thought she was full of shit when she’d said it.  “The keys?” Gibbs asked, his voice a little harsh.

“No,” Sullivan said, seating himself again.  “He stays cuffed.  He’s been a little too free with his fists.”  He nodded towards the wall behind DiNozzo.  Gibbs glanced up and saw Marino standing there.  The enormous black eye Gibbs had noticed on the right side of his face was only partially balanced by a swelling on his left jaw.

Gibbs walked over and sat down, resting his hand on the top of Tony’s head.  “You got a problem with your right hand, Vellucci?”

“No Boss,” Tony said.  Gibbs ruffled Tony’s hair and lowered his hand.

“Yes,” Gibbs said, “I can see he’s been busy, but only against those who try to touch him without my permission.”

“And no doubt against anyone he perceives as a threat to you,” Sullivan asked, and Gibbs nodded reluctantly.  He knew damned well that no order would prevent DiNozzo from trying to defend him whether it was sensible or not.

“Your conditions?” he asked.

“I’m offering you a choice.  I figure you need my business a hell of a lot more than I need yours.  You didn’t leave sunny Florida for snowy Virginia on a whim.”

Gibbs’s narrowed.  He’d liked the plan of being a criminal in need of a home right up until DiNozzo wound up kneeling in cuffs on the floor beside him.  “I assume you have a point?”

“You leave tonight, both of you, but as I said, you have a choice.  You want in, you come back here tomorrow night and accept the conditions I give you, and no more trying to put Vellucci out of my reach.  You don’t bring him tomorrow night, you just don’t bother to come.”

“What conditions?” Gibbs asked.  When Sullivan started to shake his head, he raised his hand.  “I’m not making my decision blind.  Even supposing I need you more than you need me, that doesn’t mean you don’t need me.”

Sullivan raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.  “If you come back tomorrow night, you leave with Mark and Rudy.”  He gestured at the man who had come with Tony, and the man who had come in earlier, while they were talking.  “They’re Vellucci’s bodyguards till I say otherwise.  Anytime Vellucci’s in public, alone or with you, one of them is with him.  Anytime you leave him alone, they stay with him – everywhere he goes.  They follow him into the john.  I’m not happy with you, they bring him to me, and you have to come get him.  Always assuming he wants you back at that point.”

“As if!” Tony snapped.  Gibbs gave him a solid whack on the back of the head, and DiNozzo looked instantly at the floor.  “Sorry Boss.”

Sullivan gazed at him thoughtfully.  “He is interesting.  Both fire and discipline.  It’s a difficult combination to maintain.”

“Depends on your techniques,” Gibbs said.  “So, what time do you expect us tomorrow night?”

“You’re not here by midnight, you’d better be on your way out of the MidAtlantic region.”

“I see.”  Gibbs glanced down at Tony.  “His clothes?”

“I’m sure he’ll survive a cab ride as he is,” Sullivan said.

“The keys?”

“Standard handcuff keys,” Sullivan replied.  “Good night, Gibson.  I hope I see you tomorrow evening.  A cab is waiting for you.”

Gibbs stood and Tony rose to his feet with fair grace given that his hands were bound behind him.  They got into the cab that was waiting for them.  Before Gibbs could tell him which hotel, the driver supplied the information in the form of a question.  Gibbs nodded sourly and sat back.  They rode in silence, but Gibbs tried to keep the cover up by putting an arm around his ‘lover.’  When Tony hissed in pain and pulled away, Gibbs shifted sideways and turned.  “What is it?”  Tony glanced at the driver, but Gibbs shook his head.  “What is it, Tony?” he demanded.

“It’s nothing, Gibson,” Tony said, twisting so that his arms didn’t cover his ribs quite as completely.  The movement made him hiss again, and Gibbs could see why.  There, covered by liquid bandage, was a long, shallow cut along Tony’s ribs.

“That’s not nothing,” Gibbs growled, and Tony relaxed as much as he was able.  He was already shivering.  “What happened?”

Tony gave him a dark look.  “They didn’t take off the cuffs to take my shirt and jacket off, that’s all.”

Gibbs pressed his lips together grimly.  “How am I supposed to get you into my hotel room like this?” he asked.

“You give me cash, I give you key,” the driver said.

Gibbs looked up, startled, meeting the driver’s knowing eyes in the mirror.  He looked over the seat, and saw a cheap nylon jacket, sized in proportion to the  cabby’s ample dimensions.  “How’s this?  I give you fifty bucks, you give me a key and that jacket.”

“Done.”

Gibbs didn’t even waste time wondering why a cab driver had handcuff keys.  He probably didn’t want to know.  He just took the key, unlocked the cuffs on Tony’s wrists and handed the key back to the driver in exchange for the jacket.  Tony put it on and wrapped it tightly around himself.  It was plenty big enough in volume, but the sleeves were a little short.  Gibbs nodded.  An ill-fitting jacket and bare feet might look odd at his hotel, but less odd than a half-naked man in handcuffs.

They went through the lobby and into the elevator and got to the room that was fitted out as Tony Vellucci and Gibson Howe’s love nest.  Tony hadn’t seen it before and he let out a soft whistle, fingering a pair of suede-lined manacles that lay on the bed, four inch wide shiny steel bands with black suede.

Gibbs pointed silently, and Tony caught sight of the clothes he’d been requested to provide and pulled the jacket off instantly.  “Let me get a look at that, Tony,” Gibbs said, and Tony looked at him, startled.

“I’m more upset about the loss of my Gaultier shirt and my Dolce & Gabbana jacket,” Tony said irritably, pulling on a fresh shirt.  “And they’d better be planning on giving the shoes back or I’ll take the three-fifty out of Marino’s hide.”

“I thought those were four hundred,” Gibbs asked, raising his eyebrows.

It took Tony a moment to register that Gibbs was speaking for the benefit of possible eavesdroppers, and that he was implying it was his money that had been spent.  “The other fifty was for the belt,” Tony said.  “They didn’t take that.”

“Good,” Gibbs said with an odd grin.  “I like that belt.”  His tone was rich with innuendo, then he turned on the CD player before pulling out Tony’s cell phone.  He dialed and held the phone up to his ear.  “No, director, it’s not DiNozzo, it’s Gibbs.  No, he didn’t come to the bar on his own.”  He saw Tony’s outraged expression out of the corner of his eye.  “No, he was abducted, but I don’t have any details yet.  Yeah, that’s what I thought.  We’ll be there when we can be sure we’re not being followed.  No, I don’t want to end the op.”

Tony was buttoning, and he looked up at that.  Sullivan had been unsubtle about what was required for a deal, and Tony was part of it.  He held his breath.

“You already know what I think of Stevens’ opinion,” Gibbs said, then he pressed end and dialed again.  “Kate, call this phone when you’re in the garage.”

Kate blinked at the steering wheel.  “I’m here already, Gibbs,” she said, having not taken a roundabout route to reach the hotel.  “You can’t possibly be considering continuing the op.”

“Were you followed?” Gibbs asked, and he sounded pissed.

“I don’t think so,” she said, uncertain what was fueling his response.  “I kept an eye out, and I didn’t see anyone, but Sullivan said plainly that you couldn’t come back without Tony, and you obviously can’t take Tony, so the op is over.”

“The op is over when I say it’s over, Kate,” Gibbs said, and his anger reverberated down the line.  “We’ll be down shortly.  Don’t draw attention to yourselves and _do not_ come to the room.  Stay in the car.  Are you in the parking spot we discussed?”

“Yes, Gibbs,” she said.

The phone clicked off and she pursed her lips.  “Is he mad?” McGee asked, and she just glared at him out of the corner of her eyes.  “I told you I thought we should –”  When she turned towards him, the anger on her face caused him to flush and break off.  She rested her head against the seat back and made sure the rear doors were unlocked.

When Gibbs shut the phone with an irritated grimace, Tony tilted his head.  “What’s up?”

Gibbs looked over at him.  “Well, for starters, you haven’t let me see that cut.  A quick glance in the back of the cab doesn’t cut it.”

Tony stared at him disbelievingly for a moment, but when it became clear that Gibbs did want him to take his shirt back off, he started unbuttoning.  Gibbs bent over and looked at the cut, then snapped the CD player off.  “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches, but I think we’d better have a doctor look at it.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Tony said.

“What are you standing around for, Vellucci?  Get dressed.”

Tony rolled his eyes and put his shirt back on.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t provided any footwear for the cover, so he was stuck with a pair of Gibbs’ socks.  They went down to the parking garage and found the car with Kate and McGee in it.  They slid into the rear seats from either side, and Kate turned as soon as the doors were shut.  “So, Tony, you couldn’t stand not to get involved, huh?” she asked.

“Why is everyone assuming I did anything?” Tony asked.

“Let’s get moving,” Gibbs said.  Kate started the car and pulled out of the spot.

Tony cleared his throat.  “For your information, Kate, I went to Vellucci’s hotel room to pack up my gear, figuring that during the meeting was the perfect time because all the interested parties would be busy.  Unfortunately, Marino and two of the bruisers from the club were not.  They showed up.”

“Oh,” Kate said, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.  “Sorry.”  He looked away, annoyed.

“Save the rest for the debriefing,” Gibbs said, and Tony slumped in the seat.  He sat up again sharply when that position didn’t agree with the cut on his side.

“You okay, Tony?” Kate asked.

“The debriefing,” Gibbs repeated, and they went the rest of the way in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs sent Tony straight down to autopsy so Ducky could get a look at him and he went straight up to Morrow’s office to report.

“Where’s DiNozzo?” Morrow asked as he entered, and Gibbs noticed with a slight increase of irritation that Commander Stevens was already there.

“I sent him to Ducky,” Gibbs said.  “Once Ducky’s had a look, I told him to come up here.”

“He hurt?”

“Well, they didn’t go too easy on him,” Gibbs said.  “He looks like he’s been in a fight and like he’s been dragged around by the upper arms, and when they cut his shirt and jacket off, they went a little deeper than they should have on his right side.  I don’t think it will need stitches, but it’s about eight inches long.”

“He sounded fairly calm in there,” Morrow said.  “How was he?”

“Fine.  Did you hear everything?”

“I did.”  Morrow looked pensive.

“You can’t even consider putting him back in that situation,” Commander Stevens said earnestly.  “Certainly not till we know everything that happened to him tonight.”

There came a knocking at the director’s door and Gibbs glanced at Morrow.  “Get it, Gibbs,” he said, but the door opened a second before Gibbs reached it.  When DiNozzo entered, Gibbs was more than a little startled.

“DiNozzo, I told you to go down to see Ducky,” Gibbs said in an undertone.

“I did, Boss, but when he mentioned that Lily was here, I couldn’t wait to say hi.”  Gibbs started to order him back to autopsy, but Morrow shook his head, and Gibbs faded back to let DiNozzo take center stage.  “Commander Stevens,” Tony said in his smarmiest yet least friendly voice.  “What a pleasure to see you.”

“Tony, I told you to call me Lily, or at the very least, Dr. Stevens.  You’re not in the Navy, so my rank is largely irrelevant.”

“That’s a big part of the problem, isn’t it?” Tony asked, eyes narrowing.  “I’m not a soldier or a sailor, so I must somehow be lacking in . . . what, endurance?”

The woman tilted her head, eyes set in a worried expression.  “Agent DiNozzo, this paranoia you’re exhibiting is disturbing.”

Gibbs was watching DiNozzo and saw his eyes widen.  “Paranoia, now?  I’m just a bundle of neuroses, aren’t I?” he asked.  He glanced at Gibbs.  “I’m passive-aggressive, too,” he added brightly.  “And narcissistic.”

“There’s no need for this anger, Tony,” she said.  “I’m just trying to do my job.”

“Is _that_ what you’re trying to do?”

“Do you think she has another agenda, Agent DiNozzo?” Morrow asked.

“I think she’s a –”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said sharply, and Tony cut off.

“I asked him a question, Agent Gibbs,” Morrow pointed out mildly.

Tony cleared his throat and drew himself up straight.  “I think she misrepresented everything that went on in our meeting,” Tony said in a more moderate voice.  “I don’t know how she got ‘he shouldn’t be involved in any way’ out of anything I said – or didn’t say.”

“DiNozzo, you’re bleeding,” Gibbs said, suddenly noticing the red stain on Tony’s shirt.

Tony looked down.  “Oh, Ducky got part of the liquid bandage off before he mentioned _her_ , and I just sort of patted it back on and came up here.”

“You see, this is exactly the sort of behavior I’m talking about,” Commander Stevens said.  “He _must_ be involved whether he’s necessary or not, and he’s ignoring his own health and safety.”

Gibbs blinked, wondering what on earth she got that from.  DiNozzo just rolled his eyes.  “Wait, don’t tell me, this is that ‘neurotic and grandiose idea of my importance to the mission’ thing that you told the director about?”

“DiNozzo, you weren’t in here when she said that,” Morrow said.

“I was waiting outside,” DiNozzo said.  “Maybe you should get the doors a little better soundproofed.  Her voice carries.”

“You kept reiterating that you _had_ to go, Agent DiNozzo,” Commander Stevens said.  You tell me what that was about.”

“I expressed concern that it would be a problem if I didn’t go, and gee whiz . . . I was right.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She didn’t hear?” Tony asked and Morrow shook his head.  “Well, then let me sum up my evening for you all.  I went to dinner, then I figured that since everyone would be involved in a meeting with Sullivan, I would go pack my stuff up and get Tony Vellucci out of dodge, since he was supposedly leaving for Houston tonight.  It would have been hard to explain why all his stuff was still there if they thought to check, after all.”

Morrow nodded.  “I understand, Agent DiNozzo.  I could wish you’d mentioned your intentions to me, but I understand your reasoning.”  Gibbs nodded his agreement, but he noticed that Commander Stevens was shaking her head.  “Do go on.”

“Well, I guess they did think to check, because just as I left the room, there were Marino and two of the bullies from the club.  They wanted to know why Vellucci hadn’t shown up with his boss like a good little submissive.  So, instead of going in with back up and surveillance and protection, I wound up getting abducted, roughed up and groped.  All good fun, but my favorite part was getting stripped half naked by a man with a knife while I was blindfolded.  Now _that_ was entertaining.  Riveting even.  Especially when they did this.”  He pointed at the blood on his shirt.

“It can’t be too bad,” Gibbs said quietly to Morrow.  “Or Ducky would have followed him.”  Morrow snorted.

“And now we either drop the op completely, or I get to be in even more danger than I would have been before.  So thank you, Lily, for making my evening a very special episode of The Tony DiNozzo Show.”

Stevens turned towards Morrow.  “You see?  He has this distorted view of his own importance to the case.  To every case.”

Gibbs felt his eyebrows going up, but neither he nor Morrow got a chance to answer.  “My God, woman,” Tony exclaimed.  “Don’t you understand sarcasm?”

“This is hardly the time for levity.”

“It’s either laughter or tears,” Tony snapped.

“Maybe you should give in to tears a little more often,” she suggested.  Tony gaped at her, apparently stunned into silence.  Gibbs personally thought she was nuts.

“Commander Stevens, I think that will be all,” Morrow said.

“No, no, you haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Tony said, and Gibbs stared at him.  “Ask her about my ‘daddy issues.’”

“This is no laughing matter, Agent DiNozzo,” she said in a repressive voice.

“Do you have daddy issues, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

“Apparently.  She’s convinced that my father, who never stood up past four o’clock in the afternoon unless it was to get another drink, abused me, and that I’m seeking a replacement.”  Gibbs raised his eyebrows at him.  “Yes, Boss, that would be you.”

“Look at the evidence,” Commander Stevens said.

“What evidence?” Tony demanded.  “What was it you said?  I try to please him.  He’s my boss.  I think I’m supposed to keep him happy, or they stop paying me.”

“I said you try too hard to please him.”

“Whatever.  What was the other thing?  I act out to get more attention from him, even if the attention is negative.  I don’t even know what that means.  I’m an exuberant, talkative guy working with a taciturn former marine.  Sometimes – rarely – there’s friction.”

“We can talk about it during your next session,” Commander Stevens said.

“What next session?” Tony asked incredulously.  “There’s not going to be a next session.”

“After today’s assault, you’ll need to be evaluated again.”

DiNozzo turned to Morrow.  “Sir, I will not submit to that.  I’ll quit first.”

Morrow considered him for a moment, then turned to Stevens.  “Commander Stevens, your services will no longer be required.”

“But, sir, I must protest.  Agent DiNozzo needs –”

“Thank you, Commander Stevens.”

She stopped abruptly and Gibbs watched her compose herself in an appropriately military manner.  “Yes sir,” she said, and she left.

Morrow turned to DiNozzo.  “I’m sorry, Agent DiNozzo.  I didn’t realize she was so completely out of touch.”

“She’s looking way too hard for a trauma she can treat, heal and write about,” DiNozzo said.  “And she’s perfectly willing to invent one.  She won’t stop with me, she’s going to find someone who’s more vulnerable and have him convinced he was molested and has three different personalities and the whole nine yards.”

“I’ll look into it, Agent DiNozzo,” Morrow said, and DiNozzo’s shoulders relaxed slightly.  “So, you really want to go back in on this op?” Morrow asked.

DiNozzo’s eyebrows went up.  “No,” he said, and Gibbs snorted.  He knew what that meant, but Morrow didn’t.

The director’s brows knit.  “So you want to drop it?”

“No,” Tony said.

Morrow was briefly silent, then he nodded.  “That seems healthy enough to me.  You’re back in if Agent Gibbs agrees.”

Instantly DiNozzo turned pleading eyes on him, and Gibbs gave Morrow a dirty look.  Then he shrugged.  “I think it’s our best chance of getting Sullivan.  If we back out now, he’ll be leery of letting anyone else close for a long while.  And I never thought DiNozzo wasn’t up to it, I just didn’t want to put him in unnecessary danger.”

“Well, since we obviously blundered by not sending DiNozzo with you tonight –”

“You think?” DiNozzo burst out.

Both Gibbs and Morrow spoke together.  “DiNozzo!”

Tony deflated out of manic mode and said, “Sorry sir, sorry Boss.”

“As I was saying, perhaps we should consult an expert.”

“An expert in . . .” Gibbs asked, not certain.

“The domination subculture,” Morrow said.  “Clearly Sullivan is involved in that, which is more information than we had before.  We’d guessed that Marino participated to one degree or another, and since he was a minor part of the operation, I thought would could get by with general knowledge.  If Sullivan is a serious player in that game, however, we need an expert that can clue both of you in on the rules.”

“Oh!” DiNozzo exclaimed, and they both turned to him.  “I’ll dig one up, if I may?”  Morrow nodded, and Tony was halfway back to manic again.  He dug his phone out and dialed.  “Abby?  What?  Oh, I’m fine.  It’s only a flesh wound.  Don’t you have a friend who’s big on the Dom/sub scene?”  Her answer must have been in the affirmative, because he went on, “Do you think he’s trustworthy enough to be brought in as a consultant?”

“DiNozzo?” Morrow said.

“Just a minute, Abby.”  DiNozzo looked up.  “Yes sir?”

“Why don’t you meet Abby in autopsy so you can get your wound looked to.”  DiNozzo nodded.  “And before you contact him or her, get the expert’s information so we can do at least a cursory background check.”

“Of course, sir,” DiNozzo said.  He opened the door and headed out of the office.  “Abby, meet me in autopsy.  I have to have my booboo looked at.”

“Young man, that is hardly a ‘booboo,’” Ducky exclaimed from the outer office.

“How serious is it, Duck?” Gibbs called.

Ducky took a step into the office.  “Not very, but it’s still not a booboo.”

“It’s not very impressive, Ducky,” Tony said, his tone deprecatory.  “I’ve seen cat scratches that were worse.”

“That would be a pretty big cat scratch.”

“It was a pretty big cat,” Tony said.  “One time, he fell out of the window over the tub straight down onto me while I was taking a bath.”

“Oh dear!” Ducky exclaimed, growing fainter as the two men moved away.

“It was a good six feet, and he kind of had a thing about water.  You should have seen the . . .”

Both Morrow and Gibbs were silent for a moment.  “Someone else is telling Ducky an irrelevant story,” Gibbs said finally.

“It does seem remarkable,” Morrow observed.  Both men sighed.  It was late, there were bad guys to catch, and sleep looked a long way off.  “Is he always like that?”

“Manic?” Gibbs asked.  “No.  That was anger combined with how DiNozzo handles stress.”

“He wasn’t very explicit about what happened.”

“I think he told us the high points.  Honestly, I don’t think he’s holding back.”

“Let me know if he drops any more details.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident mentioned in Tony's irrelevant story is really and for true and happened about . . . twenty years ago. (God, I'm old.) The cat's name was Underfoot and he was a Maine coon cat. Weighed close to 20 lbs. with not an ounce of fat on him. A giant of a beast. He actually did have an epic fail as Tony describes. He attempted to jump from the side of the tub to a window that was seven feet up and, he apparently failed to notice, not big enough to hold him. Not that it mattered, because he face-planted against the wall about a foot below the window and fell straight down like a stone into the water . . . in which I was bathing. I still have the scar I gained while boosting him out, and it's a good seven inches long, almost the length of my forearm. Underfoot has long since gone on to chase the laser pointer in the sky, but he was a great cat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers (and not so gentle), there is a super awesome event upcoming called _The Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen_ or _GISHWHES_ that Misha Collins sponsors. (I realize this isn’t really a Misha-centric fandom, but the cause is good and I’m excited.) GISHWHES is a charity event, lots of crazy fun, and you can meet people from all over the world. I mean, you meet them online, but you still interact and it's awesome. My last year's team consisted of three of my closest friends and a bunch of "vikings" (self-identified) from Norway. This year it runs from July 30 to Aug 6, and registration is now open. Go to the website and see all about it. www.gishwhes.com 
> 
> It's loads of fun, very silly, and if you can't afford the modest entry fee, it is possible to qualify for subsidies called Gisholarships.
> 
> If you've ever seen him live or followed him on Twitter, you know Misha Collins is crazy. Imagine that joined with a scavenger hunt where you build strange things (a life-size dog made of feminine hygiene products last year), create strange scenarios (I armed my dog for battle with the cats - awkward when one of the cats started sniffing the battle axe and my dog gave me this anxious look), and basically do a good turn for the world while having good, silly fun. William Shatner plays! So should you! (That's not peer pressure unless you're a) a celebrity or b) in your 80s.)

* * *

Abby's friend Zack was neither a wanted felon nor a known mass murder, and he came up trumps. They'd had a crash course in domination, Abby had gone home to dig out her nicest well-used collar that was big enough to fit Tony, and now they were in a cab on their way to the club. Tony's heart was playing hip hop, but he had a wire on him this time, and he had an earwig so tiny that he was almost afraid he'd lose in his ear canal. He also had his weapons back. He and Gibbs had gone by earlier in the day to pick them up. Someone else had picked up his car.

Tony was dressed in a pair of skin tight blue jeans, a dark red shirt with the top three buttons undone and a black leather collar with rounded metal studs all around. It even had a tag, Abby's touch. The front said TONY, the back had Gibson Howe's name and cell phone number. On his wrists he wore the shiny suede-lined cuffs. They had d-rings that could allow them to be locked together – or to other objects, for that matter – but they could also be worn as simple decoration. It gave them the option of using the slip lock that Zack had found for them if Sullivan insisted on Tony being restrained again, and they had a few other pieces of equipment both for their room – in case of snoopers – and for the meeting. Tony really hoped they wouldn't need most of it – that they could finish this off tonight – but he suspected he wasn't that lucky.

The cab pulled up in front of the club and Gibbs got out first. Tony followed him and, per Zack's advice, he walked to heel, just behind Gibbs and to his left. He'd spent the last few hours psyching himself into the notion that Gibbs owned him.

They were met at the door by a waitress who ushered them to a table. It wasn't usual to be seated here, but this wasn't a usual evening. A lot of thought had gone into their arrival time. Too early would have signified desperation, too late would have signified arrogance. It was quarter after ten, which theoretically was on the early side of late. That conversation had made Tony's head spin. All he knew was that the club opened at eight, their 'do not pass' deadline was midnight, and if he'd been planning an inconspicuous time to drop in, around ten-fifteen would have been it. Mere social instinct, however, had not been received well.

Tony flirted with the waitress and she responded coquettishly to his subtle flattery. When she was gone, though, he put a hand on Gibbs' hand, as though to reassure him. Gibbs turned his hand up and caught Tony's, bringing Tony's eyes to meet his. Once he had Tony's attention, he shook his head and Tony dropped his eyes to the table. It was a bit of theater that they had worked out with Zack to play up Gibbs' current state of possessiveness, or rather, Gibson's. No flirting tonight, Gibson's nerves weren't up to it.

They had ordered bottled beer, and Marino's hand was detectable in the fact that the bottles were delivered with the caps still on. "I can open them for you," the young woman said, trying to catch Tony's eye. Tony didn't look up, and it was Gibbs who spoke. "No, thank you." Looking a little perplexed, she gave up on Tony and walked away. Gibbs pulled out his key chain and opened the two bottles. He placed one of the open bottles in front of Tony. "You may drink," he said.

"Thanks, Boss," Tony replied, and he took the bottle, taking a swig. Zack had determined Boss to be their 'master' equivalent, which made things a little easier on Tony. He wasn't honestly sure he could call any man master.

Tony returned after a few moments to looking around the bar, assessing threats and behaving like a good dog, watching his owner's back. "Rudy at seven o'clock," Tony muttered as the other man approached.

"Welcome back, Mr. Howe," Rudy said. "If you and your companion will come with me, your party is waiting."

Leaving their drinks, Tony and Gibbs got up. Tony stayed close at heel as they headed back towards the meeting room. They entered the hallway and once the door closed, Rudy turned. "Mr. Sullivan has given orders that your companion is to remove his shirt and shoes and submit to being cuffed before he enters the meeting room." They had more or less expected this, so neither of them raised any objection. Tony waited, though until Gibbs gave him the unvoiced order. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and hung it on a hook in the wall next to another shirt that had already been hung there. He'd selected loafers without socks, so he slipped out of them quickly. Then Gibbs said, "Present your wrists, Tony," and Tony turned towards him, holding his arms out, wrists together, so that the rings on the cuffs were easily accessible. Gibbs threaded the lock through them and shut it with an audible click. Tony was made uneasy by it even though he knew he could get out without difficulty. He just had to have a really, really good reason to do it. He'd just have to cope with anything less.

"I believe Mr. Sullivan would prefer that you use his cuffs," Rudy said, holding out a shiny pair of standard handcuffs. "And I believe he'd prefer for his hands to be behind him."

"You believe?" Gibbs asked, his tone making it clear that Rudy's beliefs were insufficiently important for him to act on.

Rudy stared at him uncertainly, and finally came to the conclusion that Gibbs wasn't going to make any changes. He stepped back and opened the door. Tony followed Gibbs into the room and didn't swallow his teeth. Directly opposite them, in the corner, Marino knelt wearing only his trousers and whatever was under them. His ankles were cuffed together, and his wrists were cuffed behind him.

Sullivan rose to his feet. "First, Gibson, let me apologize to you for the damage done to your pet by my ham-handed associate," he said. "I was not informed last evening, or we would have dealt with the matter then."

"I confess to being displeased," Gibbs said dryly.

Sullivan was studying Tony's ribs from a safe distance. "I can see that he at least did not try to minimize the damage he did. I have disciplined him for not telling me immediately as he should have done, and you are now free to punish him yourself, if you like."

Tony didn't know how Gibbs would play this. He wasn't sure how it should be played. Gibbs gazed at Marino for a long moment, then turned back to Sullivan. "He's not mine, and I don't choose to punish what's not mine. Consider, though, what you would do to a man who had damaged your most treasured possession and mete out whatever punishment you think just."

Sullivan's brows went up, and he gave Marino a measuring glance. Marino's eyes widened. From his expression, Tony suspected that he'd rather Gibbs had punished him. "Very well," Sullivan said. "Would you care to sit?"

Gibbs nodded and then gestured Tony towards the cushion by the chair. Tony walked over and knelt down, aware of Sullivan's eyes on him the entire time he moved. It was disconcerting to say the least, but he tried not to show it. Gibbs sat down in the chair, and he stroked Tony's head the way one might to settle a nervous dog, so maybe he wasn't keeping his feelings to himself as well as he thought. He could only hope that it wasn't as obvious to people who didn't know him.

Nathan was kneeling next to Sullivan again, but today his nipples had weights dangling from them as well as being chained to his collar. Tony found the desire to have weight hung from an object that had been inserted through such a tender part of the anatomy incomprehensible, but it wasn't his anatomy, thank heaven. Nathan didn't seem to mind.

"Mind you," Gibbs said, stroking down the back of Tony's head again, this time in a possessive gesture. "If he lays hands on my property again, I will beat him to the ground. He's got two strikes against him already. Most men don't make it past one."

Sullivan smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "I'll keep than in mind," he said. He glanced back at the two bouncers. "Take him out." They grabbed Marino by the arms and removed him from the room. Tony kept his eyes on the floor, not wanting to attract attention. He was unsuccessful. Sullivan cleared his throat. "Have you considered piercings?" he asked, gesturing towards Tony. "I find they make the subject quite sensitive, both to pain and pleasure."

Gibbs shook his head. "Not really my thing," he said. He glanced down at Tony, and for a feigned look of lust, it was extremely persuasive.

"You might give it more thought," Sullivan said. He reached down and set the weight depending from Nathan's right nipple swinging, and Nathan's eyes widened. A slight hiss of indrawn breath was the only other reaction the man gave. Sullivan smiled and flicked the nipple with his forefinger and Tony could see Nathan's jaw clench. He twitched slightly, but didn't move away. "You see what I mean?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I'm not one for public displays, but I find he's sensitive enough."

"I was thinking of inviting you to my private club if things work out tomorrow evening." He glanced at Tony, and Tony found himself hard pressed not to show any reaction. He had a feeling that if things didn't work out tomorrow evening, Tony might be visiting the club anyway, just not with Gibbs in attendance. It wouldn't happen, he knew that, the surveillance teams wouldn't let it, but the idea was enough to creep him out. He found himself leaning closer to Gibbs in his chair, his shoulder actually touching Gibbs' knee before he realized what he was doing. Gibbs responded to the shift by resting his hand on the back of Tony's neck, an obscurely reassuring gesture. While Gibbs was looking down at Tony, Sullivan gave him an amused wink. Tony tensed slightly and Gibbs gave his neck a gentle squeeze.

"We'll see how I'm feeling tomorrow night," Gibbs said, and Tony hoped that translated to 'hell, no' in Gibbs speak. Being ogled by Sullivan and felt up by Marino was plenty fun, he didn't need more.

Mark and Rudy came back in and settled against the walls on either side of the door.

"How long have you two been together?" Sullivan asked.

"Nearly three years," Gibbs replied.

"How did you meet?"

"He caught my eye while he was working for someone else," Gibbs said, and Tony didn't look up at him. They always said that the best lie was one that contained a germ of truth. Gibbs was simply failing to mention that the someone else had been the Baltimore Police Department.

"So you poached him away from another master?" Sullivan asked, eyes brightening as if that gave him some kind of an advantage.

"No," Gibbs said. "Nobody had laid claim to him yet. He was promising, but a bit of a hothead."

"So you tamed him?"

"I gentled him. The wild ones are never really tame unless you break them, and I'm not interested in broken men."

"If you break them, you can rebuild them into whatever shape you want," Sullivan said.

Gibbs shook his head. "I disagree, but I guess that depends on what you want."

Sullivan chuckled and stood up, walking around behind Tony and Gibbs. Tony turned his head enough to keep a watchful eye on the man, but Gibbs declined to be baited. "Why is he watching me? Doesn't he know his place?"

"He does," Gibbs said, sounding vaguely amused. "Does he disturb you?"

"He should keep his eyes down before his betters."

"You've called him my bird dog," Gibbs said, remaining relaxed in his chair despite the fact that Sullivan was right behind him. "He's not a pretty toy, he's a working animal."

"If I menace you, will he growl and attack?" Sullivan asked in a joking tone.

"I wouldn't test it if I were you," Gibbs said, shrugging.

"I can see that you don't mind hair. I prefer my boys to shave." Tony noticed abruptly that Nathan was glaring at him, like somehow any of this was his fault. "He certainly is well proportioned."

"I know what he looks like, Doug," Gibbs said dryly.

"I'd like to see all of him."

"As I said, I'm not one for public display."

"This is hardly public," Sullivan scoffed.

"I don't know you well enough to strip him bare for you," Gibbs said. "And I won't change my mind, so if it's a deal breaker, I'll forget the address and Tony and I can both go on to Austin."

"It's not a deal breaker, Gibson, don't overreact. I'd just like to see more, but now Nathan's getting jealous." Jealous was one word for it. Murderous looks from the chained man kneeling across from him had been making Tony uneasy. He might not just have to watch out for the tops in this room. Sullivan walked up and took a handful of Nathan's hair, pulling his head back. "You know how I feel about jealousy, slut. You don't own me, I own you." Grabbing the bound man by the neck and dragging him halfway to his feet, he kissed him hard. The kiss spoke less of passion and more of possession, and when he had dropped Nathan back to his knees, Sullivan gave Tony a look that made him press a little closer to Gibbs.

"We're here for a reason, Doug," Gibbs said, his hand squeezing Tony's neck. "Business?"

Sullivan said, "Now, as for business, before we can really get down to deals, I've got a friend in need of some help."

Gibbs tilted his head curiously, and Tony kept his expression impassive. Apparently Gibson needed to prove himself and no doubt incriminate himself at the same time. That was how these kinds of organizations worked. Everybody had something on everybody else. "I see," Gibbs said. "What sort of help?"

"I don't know the details, but he's got something of a supply problem. You're a go getter. Find out, solve it, and come back." He held out a slip of paper. "Memorize the address and the time." Gibbs blinked at it and squinted. Tony wished his boss would get a pair of reading glasses. Sullivan sighed and read it aloud to him.

Gibbs repeated it and nodded. "We'll leave in the morning," he said.

"Tony stays at the hotel," Sullivan replied. Gibbs started to object, but Sullivan continued to speak and Gibbs broke off. "My friend will expect a man alone, not a man, his lover and two bodyguards, which, according to our agreement, is what he'd get." Gibbs pursed his lips. "So, tomorrow, Tony will be spending the day in your hotel room with Rudy and Mark." This wasn't Tony's favorite plan, but they'd assumed it would happen and had prepared. The room had been swept for existing bugs, and their own had been placed. Once in the hotel room, nearly everything Rudy and Mark did would be on camera.

"Very well. I'll need an early start, so I think it's time we went back to the hotel."

"Rudy and Mark have the adjoining room. I'll expect that the door between will stay open at all times."

"Well, that will interfere with my plans for the evening," Gibbs said, sounding resigned.

"It doesn't need to. They can be selectively deaf. I'm not interested in your sex play."

Like hell, Tony thought. He wanted details and diagrams, but he wasn't likely to admit it. "I don't perform in front of crowds," Gibbs replied. He rose and Tony rose with him. "Are they ready?"

Sullivan nodded, walking up to Tony and touching the manacles, carefully not touching Tony's skin. "These are nice."

"Yes, they are," Gibbs said.

"Good night, Gibson. Take care of your pet."


	7. Chapter 7

They didn't need to find a cab tonight, either. Mark went and got a dark sedan while Rudy stood just behind Tony and to the side, like a good bodyguard. When Mark pulled up, Rudy opened the rear door of the car for them and they slid in together. Rudy got in the front. Recalling the way Sullivan's eyes had barely left him all evening, Tony swallowed convulsively. He could handle it, though. If he had to be bait, he'd just have to deal with it.

Gibbs put an arm around him and drew him close, ruffling his hair. "Good job, Tony," he said, and Tony felt the familiar flush of pleasure that always followed the rare compliment from his boss. He knew this one had been given at least in part because of their cover, but he'd like to believe that it, like Gibbs' tale about how they'd met, had at least a grain of truth in it.

The arrangements at the hotel were not to Gibbs' or Tony's liking. Mark and Rudy came in with them and opened the connecting door. Evidently they'd already been in their room and opened it on that side. Neither man spoke, but Mark went into the other room and brought Rudy a newspaper and a book of crossword puzzles, then left again. Rudy settled down on the sofa and began to read the paper.

"Let's take a shower, Tony," Gibbs said, and Rudy glanced up with a grin but didn't move. No window in the bathroom meant no exit, hence the guards could stay outside. It made tomorrow sound a great deal more bearable. Tony grabbed a pair of pajama pants and Gibbs ushered him in, then locked the door behind them.

"Turn on the water," Gibbs said, moving towards the toilet. Tony politely averted his eyes and started the shower, selecting a very noisy massage setting and stripping down. He felt filthy even if he'd only had eyes on him, and it would be painfully obvious to any listener if the water was just hitting the wall.

Gibbs watched Tony getting undressed. "What are you doing?" he asked in a low voice. The sound might carry, but the words wouldn't.

"Water makes a different sound hitting a body," Tony pointed out, but Gibbs suspected he had another reason for getting under the spray. Not much he could do about it, though, and Tony wasn't wrong. Too long of the water simply hitting the wall, and Rudy might get curious and the lock wouldn't be difficult to defeat.

Gibbs pulled out his phone and sat down on the toilet. He didn't have much to report. Morrow and the others had heard everything that had happened during the meeting. He gave the information that both he and Tony were satisfied that things were progressing according to plan, Morrow replied in kind and that was it. He waited a while, contemplating the next steps he needed to take on his boat, then when he thought DiNozzo'd had enough, he stripped off and tapped at the curtain.

DiNozzo looked out. "Yeah Boss?" He took in Gibbs' state of undress and blinked. "Um, Boss . . . what . . ."

"You've been in there long enough," Gibbs said. "My turn. We'd both better be wet when we get out there."

DiNozzo nodded, did a final rinse and came out. Gibbs looked at the sheer number of bottles and tubes and rolled his eyes. What on earth did Tony need beyond shampoo and soap, for pity's sake? When he was clean, he pulled the curtain open. Tony had pulled on his pajama pants and was drawing pictures in the steam on the mirror.

"Tony?" Tony jumped and turned around, eyes wide. Gibbs beckoned him over. "Play it cool tomorrow. This is a test."

"Yeah, Boss."

Gibbs noticed a red spot on Tony's neck. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing with his chin.

"A failed attempt to fake a hickey," Tony said.

"You want me to give you a hickey?" Gibbs asked quietly. It would certainly fit the cover. DiNozzo's eyes widened and he stared at him. "I know how."

"Don't ask me that question when you're naked, Boss," Tony hissed, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

He walked over to the door and grabbed the fancy towel the hotel had provided and wrapped it around himself. Then he returned to DiNozzo's side. "Do you want me to give you a hickey?"

"Do you want me to give you a knuckle sandwich?"

Gibbs snorted. "Do we need to sneak a girl in here?" he asked.

"I'm not that easy," Tony snapped.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Kate?"

Tony's eyes got an amused, faraway look. "Sure, but only if I get to watch when you ask her."

"Guys?" It was Abby's voice in his ear. "You know this is being recorded, right?"

Gibbs looked towards the mirror. "Abby? _Is_ this being recorded?" he asked.

"No, of course not," she said, and he knew what that meant. What happened when they were alone wouldn't be saved unless something pertinent happened. "I wish I was there, I could help, but you really should give him a hickey, Gibbs. In fact, he should probably have several, but I'm guessing we can pretend that the others are where they can't be seen."

Tony looked slightly taken aback by that remark, and Gibbs shook his head. "Maybe I don't do hickeys," he said.

"Come on, Gibbs. You don't do piercings, you have to lay your claim somehow. Darn, I should have marked him up good before you guys left."

"Promises promises," Tony muttered.

"Gibbs, you have to give him a hickey. I'm guessing that Sullivan was doing the whole devouring him with his eyes thing."

"So what?" Gibbs asked.

"So, you're dominant. Another man was after your property. You want to make that claim plain for anyone to see, and we already know he likes to see Tony topless. It's kind of like when we planted a flag on the moon, though that's always seemed kind of silly to me. A flag won't flap without wind, so it's just gotta be hanging there lifeless and hard to read. We should have done something more like an obelisk or a pylon. A flag in vacuum is just silly."

"The point, Abby?"

"You need to place a claim marker on him. Sullivan clearly thinks he's up for grabs, you need to play the part. You need to stake your claim."

"I'm not a gold strike, Abby," Tony protested.

"I agree," Morrow put in unexpectedly. Both Gibbs and Tony stiffened at the sound of the director's voice. "Agent Gibbs, you said you could carry this through, and Miss Sciuto is right."

Gibbs met Tony's startled eyes and said, "Is that an order, sir?"

"It is, unless Agent DiNozzo categorically refuses."

Tony let out a deep sigh. "I'd like to go on record that I'm only doing this for the mission," he said. "And euew. I'd like that in the record too. Euew."

"This is being recorded, DiNozzo," Gibbs pointed out.

"Right." He nodded curtly. "Okay. Do it here, Boss," he said, pointing to the join between his neck and shoulder. Gibbs looked at the spot with distaste. "From behind. You'd have done it while you were nailing me to the wall in the shower."

"Nailing you to the wall?"

DiNozzo ignored the incredulity in his tone. "Don't break the skin, but –"

"I've given a hickey before, Di – Tony." Gibbs caught himself that time.

"To women, I'm assuming?"

"There's a difference?"

"Guys are rougher."

"How much experience do you have, Tony?"

"I worked Vice, Gibbs, for two years."

Gibbs considered that for a moment. "Undercover?"

"Occasionally," DiNozzo said. "Now, don't break the skin, but leave teeth marks." He then turned around, leaned against the wall and waited. Gibbs blinked in surprise and then started psyching himself up. Pretending DiNozzo was a woman wouldn't do it, not if he had to be rougher than he would be with a woman. Damn. After several moments, he stepped forward and gave it a go.

Afterwards DiNozzo rinsed his neck off, looking at the mark critically. "Not bad, Boss. I . . ."

Gibbs didn't listen. He was busy brushing his teeth.

"I taste that bad, huh?" Tony said when he was done and Gibbs glowered at him. "You ready to go out and cuddle?"

"Sure." He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and hung the robe up. DiNozzo walked out of the bathroom ahead of him, strutting, and Gibbs watched with a small smile as he followed. DiNozzo was practically bragging at Rudy about having been screwed in the shower, all without saying a word. Gibbs called the front desk and set a wake up call.

"I could have woke you," Rudy said. Gibbs just snorted and ignored him. Tony gave him a big grin. "What?" Rudy demanded.

"Don't touch the Boss when he's asleep," he advised with a malicious grin. "Not if you know what's good for you."

Rudy shook his head and went back to his crossword, but Gibbs noticed him shoot a curious glance his way over the top of the book. Gibbs and Tony climbed into bed from either side and there was a moment of awkwardness as Gibbs rolled over and put an arm across Tony's chest. Then Tony snuggled in and sighed.

Gibbs wasn't usually the sort to ask people how they felt, but he'd really like to ask DiNozzo how he was coping with this situation. The younger man had an extraordinary game face, and he generally didn't let on when something bugged him, but Gibbs wasn't honestly sure how much of his reactions to Sullivan earlier had been acting and how much had been entirely real. There was no doubting that Sullivan wanted to add DiNozzo to his list of those who had been broken and reshaped, and Gibbs knew DiNozzo had to be pretty damned creeped out about it. He couldn't ask, though. He wasn't even sure he'd have been able to ask if they'd been alone and unrecorded. It just wasn't his style to talk about those things – or Tony's for that matter.

He fell asleep reminding himself that Tony was Vellucci and he was Gibson Howe. It would not do to wake up and use the wrong names.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs woke up and glanced at the clock. It was about two minutes till his wake up call. Standard for him. What wasn't standard was that DiNozzo was draped all over him. They'd started with Gibbs' arm over DiNozzo's chest, that seeming a suitably possessive position. Now he was on his back and DiNozzo had an arm across his chest, and was snuggled up beside him as close as he could get, with one of his legs draped over Gibbs' two. Gibbs was extremely warm, and a little startled to find out what a cuddler DiNozzo apparently was.

The phone rang and Gibbs leaned over to pick it up. "Yeah?"

"This is your wake up call, sir," said a bright, cheery voice.

"Thanks," Gibbs said, and he hung up.

"What is it, Boss?"

"Time for me to get up and on my way," Gibbs said, reaching up and squeezing Tony's arm. "Be good today," he said, then leaned up and gave Tony a quick kiss on the lips before disentangling from the younger man and getting up. He pulled his clothes on and got ready, then walked over to where DiNozzo lay watching him sleepily. "Go back to sleep if you can."

DiNozzo shook his head and sat up. He grabbed the remote. "I think I'll see what's on."

"Rot your brain," Gibbs commented, then he looked over at Mark, who had taken over from Rudy. They'd swapped off periodically through the night. He fixed Mark with a stern glare, but didn't speak. He just glared till the man looked uneasy, then left. He didn't know how Morrow had divided the duties. It was something he'd had to leave in the director's hands under the circumstances. He'd prefer to have Kate and McGee on DiNozzo, but it was out of his hands.

"Gibbs, cough twice if you can hear me," Kate said in Gibbs' ear. He followed the instructions, wondering who they had on DiNozzo's detail. "Good. Just so you know, Garner and Wallace are watching Agent DiNozzo."

Not a bad choice, he thought and left the thought behind. He had to focus on where he was or he'd get himself into trouble.

* * *

Tony stretched and used the facilities. Then he went lay back on the bed, turning on the TV and looking for movies. He had his choice of several, but he settled on _Beach Blanket Bingo_ because it was definitely fun to look at the eye candy, and the music was likely to drive his pair of 'bodyguards' insane, especially the one who was napping in the next room. With that in mind, he turned the volume up a bit. Once it was loud enough, he reached out and grabbed the phone. Dialing, he ordered a nice big breakfast from room service.

Mark ignored him, but Rudy got up, came into the room for a moment, looking sleepy and disgruntled, then left again. Tony grinned. His campaign of harassment had begun.

He ate a leisurely breakfast, enjoying the annoyance his guard was showing. He'd already noticed that they seemed to be subsisting on power bars, so his scrambled eggs, sausage and pancakes had to be tantalizing. Muscle mass like those two had wasn't maintained by power bars alone. Rudy was lured into the room again, and he didn't leave this time. He had a book, a Danielle Steele novel. Tony contemplated the various gibes that he could derive from that alone, but decided it was too easy.

The movie ended around nine, and he went surfing for something else. His breakfast was still on its tray, and every so often he'd take another bite of sausage. He paused for a moment on the news, but that got boring fast. He surfed through a variety of children's shows, considered Lamb Chop's Sing-Along as likely to induce madness, but rejected it regretfully. It wouldn't do for him to go crazy, too. Finally, he settled on a morning talk show. He could listen to meaningless babble all day and half the night.

When he'd gotten enough fun out of torturing them with the food he wasn't eating all of, he took the tray to the door and, balancing it on one arm, he opened the door and stepped just far enough outside to set it to one side.

"What are you doing?" Rudy demanded, getting up and jerking him back inside.

Tony looked pointedly at the hand on his arm, and Rudy removed it. "I was putting my tray out. Is that a problem?"

"You don't open that door without asking us first."

Tony rubbed his arm and watched Rudy go back to his chair. Test made and answer clear as day. The grip had left a mark that was definitely going to bruise. Gibbs would be thrilled, Gibson even more so. "I usually go running in the morning," he said.

"Not today," Rudy replied, settling down with his book again. "Today you're going to stay in this room, watch TV and keep quiet."

Tony wandered around behind Mark and looked over his shoulder at the crossword. He'd barely begun it. Tony scanned the later clues for something easy. "Rustier," he said.

"What?" Mark asked. Rudy looked up, brows knit.

"Eighty-two down. 'More corroded.' Rustier."

"I'm not that far yet," Mark said.

"Aretha," Tony replied.

"What?"

"'Soul singer Franklin on eighty-four. Aretha."

"I know that, I haven't got there yet."

"Oh," Tony said innocently. "Just trying to help."

"I don't need your help. Go watch TV."

"Urns," Tony said. "One-oh-three across." When Mark glowered at him, he moved off towards the bed. "I like crosswords."

"Have you lost your marbles, DiNozzo?" a voice muttered in his ear. Tony thought it was Chris Wallace. "Don't antagonize them."

Tony started surfing again and found _Spartacus_. It suited his mood, so he flopped back and started watching. Rudy got interested, too, and put his book down. Mark cleared his throat about an hour later and said, "Hey, Rudy? Know a five-letter word for 'crosshatches'?"

Rudy shushed him, and Tony said, "Lines."

"No, it starts with an S."

Tony got up and wandered over. "You've got the wrong word on twenty-eight across. Not runs, snag, and that makes twenty-nine down grids."

"Would you both be quiet?" Rudy said.

Tony sighed and went back to the bed to watch. Before the movie was over, he started feeling a little stir crazy. To deal with some of that, he put on some music and started doing stretching and strength building exercises. He finished a round of fifty push-ups and sat back on his knees, grabbing the hand towel he'd taken from the bathroom to wipe his brow. Someone had definitely turned the heat up too high in here. He froze when he saw that he had a visitor.

"Nice to see a young man who cares about his body," Sullivan said, and Tony started to get to his feet, suddenly very aware that he was still only clad in pajama pants. "No, don't get up, boy. There's no need. You belong on your knees anyway."

"Good morning, sir," Tony said, remaining where he was. They were off script, and he didn't know where this was going.

Sullivan turned and made a gesture and Mark brought a chair over and put it where Sullivan pointed, about three feet in front of where Tony knelt. "It's no longer morning," Sullivan said, seating himself. "It's afternoon, but I forgive you the lapse. It's only just past noon."

Tony blinked. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he should say something. "Thank him," Abby hissed in his ear.

"Thank you, sir," Tony said.

"I wanted to see you without that overprotective presence getting in the way," Sullivan said. "Are you afraid of me, boy?"

"Say yes," Abby said. "Or he'll want to do something to make you afraid."

"Not particularly," Tony said. "Sir." He heard Abby make a frustrated noise in the lab and wished he could take the earwig out.

"No?" Sullivan tilted his head, gazing at Tony. After a moment he rose and went around behind him. Without the need to guard Gibbs, Tony had no reason to turn around, and having Sullivan out of sight made him excessively nervous. "Gibson will make a great deal of money today, and he will be indebted to me for the opportunity."

When the silence lengthened enough that Tony knew he should speak, he said, "Yes sir."

"Over the next few weeks that will undoubtedly increase. I have many opportunities to offer for an enterprising man." He walked around front again, his eyes seeking Tony's. "One of these days I will call that debt in, and I may not ask for money."

Tony knew it would never happen, so he wasn't truly alarmed by the statement. He met Sullivan's eyes coolly.

A hand whipped out and grabbed his hair, jerking his head down. "Eye contact is not permitted," Sullivan snapped. "You are not with Gibson now, you are with me."

"I am not yours to command, sir," Tony said. Sullivan's hand tightened in Tony's hair, pulling on his scalp.

"You have utter confidence in Gibson, don't you?" Sullivan said.

"I do, sir."

Sullivan released his hair and took a step back. "Rise." Tony thought for a moment, then did as he was told. "Did you go with him willingly, when he claimed you?"

Tony swallowed. "I did, sir," he said, wishing the twenty questions would end. What the hell was he doing here? Did he think Gibson wouldn't mind?

Sullivan leaned close. He was an inch or so shorter than Gibbs, which put him three inches shorter than Tony, but he didn't lose much in the intimidation arena for his lack of height. In a low, intense voice, he said, "I would take you, force you, willing or not, but in the end, you would serve me eagerly. You would beg to be used and abused."

Tony rolled his eyes, he couldn't help it, and Sullivan hauled back and struck him solidly in the face. Tony took the blow, too startled to know how to react but now ready for a fight. "Don't fight back, Tony!" Abby said, and Tony simply turned back to face front, fists clenched but not moving. If this were real, he would be the submissive to this man's subordinate. It would risk Gibbs' safety to fight back, so he wouldn't dare. He was very glad this wasn't his real life.

"You okay?" Wallace asked, and Tony wondered how he was supposed to answer. He forced himself to relax his fists.

"You do have discipline," Sullivan said. "Remove your pants. Gibson can hardly say this is public. It's your own hotel room."

"I don't think the boss would like it," Tony said.

"I didn't ask if Gibson would like it, I told you to do it."

"I only take orders from Gibson," Tony replied.

Sullivan looked at him thoughtfully, then turned away. "Did he have breakfast?" he asked.

"He called for room service," Mark said.

"You let him make the call?"

"I could see what he was dialing, sir."

Sullivan nodded slowly, then turned back to face Tony. He reached out and started to touch, but drew back at the last moment. Tony had swayed involuntarily backwards, and he was irritated by the reaction. Sullivan smiled. "I'll see you this evening, then," he said. He walked to the door between the two rooms. "Let him order lunch, but dinner will be with me, either way. If you don't hear from me by six, bring him to the club."

"Yes sir," Mark said. Sullivan glanced back at Tony, then left. Tony took a deep breath, then sat down on the floor and started doing stomach crunches. He wasn't letting on that Sullivan's games had affected him in any way.

"Tony, you should have said you were afraid," Abby said, sounding anxious. Tony just kept exercising. It wasn't like he could answer her.

"It wouldn't be in character, Abby," Director Morrow put in, and Tony wondered how long he'd been listening. "Be careful, DiNozzo, but you're doing okay."

Tony still couldn't respond. All he could do was wonder how long Sullivan had been watching him do push-ups. No one had bothered to fill him in on that detail.

Gibbs drove back towards Alexandria, the job completed. Sullivan's friend Martin had needed some high end electronics, military grade stuff. Gibson hadn't asked him what he needed it for, he had made a few calls and taken the guy to a warehouse that was owned by a friendly informant and where the stuff had been hastily delivered by a team from NCIS. It had required rather a long round trip, however, and it was just past six, and he still had at least forty-five minutes before he got back to the hotel.

He called the number Sullivan had given him and the man himself answered. "Gibbs. I just heard from Martin, and he's very satisfied. It seems you are what you claim to be, but you're going to be later getting back than I'd hoped. Come straight to the club. Tony's already on his way here."

"What?" Gibbs exclaimed. His radio contact hadn't been very consistent for the last half hour because Kate was hanging back a bit.

"Dinner is set for six thirty. I'll see you then."

Gibbs slammed the phone shut and glowered at the road. Static in his ear made him growl. "Gibbs, can you hear me?" Kate asked a moment later, not too garbled to understand.

"Yeah. Tony's on his way to the club."

"How did you know?" she asked. "I only just heard from Abby."

"I called Sullivan to update him on my progress."

"Okay, good," she said.

"What's good about it?" Gibbs demanded.

"That he doesn't think you've failed," she said.

"Yeah," Gibbs muttered.

Kate could imagine his glare. "He's speeding up again," McGee said, and Kate sighed. She hated driving with Gibbs. Driving like him so she could keep up was even worse.

He was going to be furious with her later. She was under orders not to tell him about Tony's adventures. Morrow wanted him to come to it the way Gibson would have, cold and clueless. If she was lucky, he'd just kill her.

* * *

Tony went to take a shower at five, figuring he'd better be ready before six, in case they hadn't heard from Sullivan and decided to transport him however he was dressed. After locking the door, he stripped and took his earwig out, tucking it into its little compartment in his toothbrush holder. He turned the water up hot and enjoyed the steam as he washed. The door opened before he was through, and he stuck his head out, half expecting Gibbs.

It was Rudy. "Hurry up," he said.

"I'll be out in a minute," Tony replied, but Rudy didn't move. After a moment, Tony drew back behind the shower curtain. He finished quickly and wondered what he was going to do about his earwig with Rudy very much in the way. He reached out and snagged a towel and dried off hastily inside the curtain, wrapping the towel around his hips. "Is something wrong?"

"Sullivan's given orders to bring you to the club now," Rudy said.

Tony needed his earwig. He needed to know how to handle this. "Let me brush my teeth," he said, but Rudy grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the bathroom. "I can't go anywhere in a towel and my clothes are all . . ." He trailed off as he took in the clothing that had been laid out on the bed. There was no doubt it was for him, and he wasn't comfortable with the implications.

"You need to wear these," Rudy said, giving him a shove towards the bed.

Tony looked at the black pants and shirt. "Those aren't mine. Gibson won't like it."

"Do we have to dress you?" Rudy asked. He whipped the towel away, and Tony wasn't sure what to do. The hesitation was enough. Rudy grabbed his arms and Mark picked up the pants. He fought them. He didn't have much choice. He'd given them to understand that he would if touched by a man who didn't have Gibbs' permission.

The pants were exceptionally tight. He'd have had trouble getting them on himself. Mark had some difficulty pulling them up his legs, and it involved a great deal more touching than Tony liked. "Do you dress left or right?" Mark asked finally and Tony glowered at him.

"Left," Rudy said, and Tony didn't think it was a guess. Mark tucked him left and zipped the pants up, buttoning them. They were very expensive, very soft leather, and they fit like a second skin. As soon as they were on, Rudy forced him to his knees to make it easier for them to get the shirt onto him. With two of them, he didn't have much chance. He could call his back up team in, but that would end the op, and it was important. He already knew Gibbs had been successful. Surely Sullivan knew that. This had to be part of the game he was playing.

Finally, he was dressed, and they cuffed his wrists behind him with real cuffs this time. "Gibson is going to be pissed," he said, still kneeling on the floor. They didn't respond. Rudy went into the bathroom and got his collar and put it on him.

"How do you plan to get me to the car?" Tony asked. "I know you're not going to shoot me now."

"You have a choice," Rudy said. "You can go sober, or we can drug you. It's a bit early for you to be drunk, but people will believe it."

"Fine. I'll go sober," Tony said. They pulled him to his feet and let him step into his loafers. Then they uncuffed him, got his coat on him and cuffed him again in front. Tony looked at Rudy. "How subtle is this?"

"Clasp your hands together," Rudy said, digging out a scarf. He draped it over Tony's hands, and he had to admit that it did look fairly natural.

They took him out into the hall and this elevator, too, led straight out onto the garage. He was now more or less without back up. They couldn't hear him, he couldn't hear them. They could and would follow, but until Gibbs showed up, he was on his own. He saw a lot more people on his way to the car this time, but, again, any action on his part would end the op, and he didn't want to do that. He wasn't throwing all the work they'd done away. He let them guide him into the back seat of the car, and Rudy climbed in next to him. The trip to the club wasn't terribly pleasant. They got stuck in traffic for a half hour at least.

They drove into what had to be the underground garage they'd used on his last clandestine entrance into the place. At least this time he could see. They took him upstairs and to the door of the meeting room. There, they uncuffed him and helped him off with first his coat and then his shirt. He slipped out of his loafers, and they forced his arms behind him and cuffed them. Mark opened the door and Rudy led him inside.

Sullivan was already there, but Nathan wasn't. Rudy let go of him and stepped back. Sullivan came forward and looked him over. Tony struggled to remain calm. Being with Mark and Rudy without back up had been alarming enough. Being with Sullivan on his own was a little terrifying. Tony couldn't call for help, there were two men in this room who had proven willing and able to physically control him at Sullivan's order, and the lust in Sullivan's eyes was undeniable. They had a window of between thirty and ninety minutes before the back up team would come in even without a call. A lot could happen in that time, and Tony wouldn't be able to prevent any of it.

Sullivan took in the darkening bruises on Tony's arms and torso and tilted his head. "You fought them, didn't you?" Sullivan said.

"I have my instructions, sir."

"So, if I were to touch you?" he asked.

"I would take whatever steps seemed necessary to prevent that, sir," he said.

"Are you saying you would fight me?" Tony nodded. Sullivan smiled as if the thought pleased him. "Your master was successful in his quest. The clothes were simply a reward intended for him."

Tony managed not to respond in any way that would get him hit again, but he thought Sullivan was an idiot if he thought either Gibbs or Tony would buy that line. He'd wanted to see Tony in skin tight leather, so he'd arranged for him to be dressed in skin tight leather. Nothing hard to grasp about that.

Sullivan walked around behind him, and, again, Tony couldn't turn. "Gibson will be here before long, I should imagine." A quarter landed on the floor in front of him. "Pick that up for me, would you?"

Tony knew exactly what was going on, but he didn't have a real choice. With his hands cuffed behind him, he really only had one option. He went down on his knees and bent over, picking the quarter up with his teeth. Then he rose again, the quarter held securely between his incisors. Sullivan made an appreciative sound deep in the back of his throat. After a moment, he spoke in a urgent voice. "Rudy, bring Nathan in here now." Then he reached around and retrieved the quarter, not touching Tony in doing so.

Rudy left, and for several long moments, there was silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of Sullivan breathing. He was still behind Tony, making him profoundly uncomfortable. He felt the other man drawing closer, the warmth of his body feeling near even if they weren't touching. "Are you afraid of me now, Tony?"

Tony wasn't sure what the right answer was. Tony Vellucci would be absolutely certain that his boss would protect him, at least in theory. Abby would counsel him to say yes, but Tony wasn't sure he could do that, not even though it was almost true at the moment. "No, sir," he said.

The door opened behind them, and Tony knew it had to be Rudy bringing Nathan in. He didn't know whether to be glad of that or more alarmed. "Go, kneel by your master's chair," Sullivan said suddenly, his voice harsh. Tony did as he was told. He could now see Nathan, who was naked. He shot Tony a dark, suspicious look.

"Sir?" Rudy said.

"What?"

"Mr. Howe is just arriving, sir."

Tony felt a surge of relief that he concealed the best he could. "Nathan, kneel by my chair," Sullivan said, and then he left the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Gibbs knew that Tony's escort had been delayed by traffic, and he was relieved by that fact, but he also knew that Tony had still arrived at the club before him. He found a parking spot, but before he could get out of the car, his phone rang. He picked it up and looked at the number. It was preprogrammed with Morrow's code name. "Gibson," he said.

"We've got some new information," Morrow said.

"Can we end the op?" Gibbs asked.

"No, it makes it even more important. You're our closest link, and our latest info suggests that he may be involved in smuggling arms to the insurgents in Afghanistan."

Gibbs blinked. A solder – a marine – giving weapons to the enemy? "How certain is it?"

"Good source, but no proof."

"So we need to keep on with it," Gibbs said.

"We haven't had any contact with DiNozzo for about thirty minutes. You'll have to make your own judgment when you see his situation, but keep in mind that we're now dealing with treason."

Gibbs nodded. "Anything else?"

"Good luck."

Gibbs closed the phone and glared at the steering wheel. Treason. And DiNozzo couldn't know because they had no way to contact him. Someone had gone into the hotel room dressed as a cleaner and found his earwig tucked neatly away to keep it out of the wet during his shower.

He walked into the club. Marino, looking chastened and not altogether well, led him to the back rooms. Gibbs walked through the doors and into a room where he found DiNozzo and Nathan. DiNozzo was kneeling beside the chair Gibbs usually sat in, and he wore black leather pants that Gibbs had never seen before, his collar, and handcuffs that bound his arms behind him. Nathan was naked, kneeling beside Sullivan's chair. Gibbs walked over, tapped DiNozzo on the head and gestured for him to rise. DiNozzo did, and Gibbs saw that quite a number of new bruises had been added to his collection, including one on his left cheek. Anger began to boil in his gut. A day alone in his hotel room shouldn't have brought about bruises like this, and no one had told him a damned thing.

"Where'd the pants come from, Vellucci?" he asked, forcing himself to sound cold.

"They were a gift from our patron, Boss," Tony said colorlessly. The look in his eyes was one of relief, but Gibbs didn't get the impression that anything more than rough handling had occurred.

"Did you ask permission to accept them?" Gibbs asked, playing his part.

"They aren't a gift for me, Boss," Tony replied. "They're for you."

The door opened, and Sullivan entered the room. Gibbs turned and gestured Tony down again. Tony knelt without a word, and Gibbs rested a reassuring hand on his head. He wished he could explain the changed situation to him, but that would have to wait for later. "What has been going on in my absence?" he asked.

"Gibson, would you say that by undertaking this task today, you had begun working for me?" Sullivan asked.

"I assumed it was a test to see if I could deliver."

"It was, and you passed. But your very presence here, your acceptance of my conditions rather imply a willingness to become my subordinate."

"Perhaps," Gibbs said, a bit uneasy about these questions.

"I paid a visit to your bird dog today, and he was cheeky. I had to administer a bit of correction, but he still needs a proper punishment for his disrespect."

"I will take care of it later," Gibbs said, removing his hand from Tony's head and wondering just what had happened.

"You will deal with it now, Gibson, and in front of me. His disrespect for me reflects poorly on you. I will see the problem remedied, or I will take steps myself."

Morrow spoke in his ear. "If DiNozzo seems at all up to it, Gibbs, you have to go through with it. We can't let him get away."

"What did he do?" Gibbs asked.

"He mocked me."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "What were you doing?"

"That is irrelevant."

"I disagree," Gibbs said. "I have offered to do business with you, and if that requires that I become your subordinate in some sense, we can discuss that. However, I am not part of your sex games, and neither is my boy. I will deal with his disrespect in my own time, in my own way." He looked down at Tony. "As for your gift, much as I appreciate it, I would prefer that any such presents come through me. Did you put it on willingly, boy?" Gibbs asked abruptly.

"No, Boss," Tony said.

"Good boy," he said, stroking Tony's head. Tony was very close to his leg, and Gibbs got the feeling that he was alarmed by the events that were going on around him. He turned towards Sullivan. "I don't appreciate his being manhandled by your bully boys. It rather detracts from the value of the 'gift.'"

Sullivan gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "You will instruct him in proper respect towards his betters?"

"I will see to it that he is properly respectful, but that doesn't mean he will obey your orders. He's mine, not yours. Even if we enter a business relationship, Tony is mine."

There was an anger burning deep in Sullivan's eyes, but he nodded. "Understood, but I think I'll leave Rudy and Mark with him. For one thing, if you're interested, I've got a few people I'd like to introduce you to tomorrow, and I doubt very much if you'd want to bring your pet along on the trip."

"Vellucci is part of the way I work," Gibbs said. "I can't have him immobilized this way."

"You'll have to be flexible for a while," Sullivan said.

"Why is he being so demanding?" Morrow asked.

"Gibbs is strong," Abby replied. "Sullivan needs to establish control. It's like a couple of alpha wolves trying to determine hierarchy, but if Gibbs gives in too easily, he'll lose face, and it will put them both in more danger, Tony especially."

Gibbs wished they'd talk outside his ear, but they were likely not in the same room. He looked at Sullivan. "Vellucci should come with us. People need to know he's my lieutenant, to understand that he and I come together. Or will these folks be made uneasy by the guards?"

"No, they're familiar enough with Rudy and Mark," Sullivan said, shrugging. "If you want even more people to see what a prize you've caught."

"Why not?" Gibbs asked, resting his hand on Tony's head. "He's mine. Are you saying you don't show Nathan off?"

"Nathan isn't in his league," Sullivan said carelessly. Gibbs caught a glimpse of helpless hurt and fury on Nathan's face before he locked it down, but he decided he'd better keep an eye on the young man. He might be submissive towards Sullivan, but that didn't make him harmless. "Very well, Gibson, if you want him along, he can come."

"Not bound, and he carries his weapons."

"Not bound, but his weapons remain behind."

Gibbs inclined his head. "Very well."

"Now, I thought we'd have dinner. Does your pet eat at the table, or does he eat from a dish on the floor?"

"In public, at the table," Gibbs said. "And our private games are none of your affair. I'm putting up with this only because you insisted." He gestured at Tony's position. "That doesn't mean it will go any further than this."

"I thought you were coming to my private club tonight."

"I said I would consider it, and if we went, it would be as observers, at least at first." He sensed an increase in tension coming from DiNozzo. "And probably not tonight. Perhaps, if the invitation remains open, we might take you up on it at a later date."

"Of course. Now, Nathan, it appears you're getting a treat. Don't presume on it." He led the way to another room where a table had been set for four. Waiters came in shortly after with a steak dinner. Gibbs gave DiNozzo an assessing look while Sullivan's back was turned. He seemed calm enough, but his game face occasionally fooled Gibbs. He'd have to check with him later in the evening.

Dinner passed fairly uneventfully, with small talk between Gibbs and Sullivan, but Gibbs noticed that Nathan kept shooting DiNozzo angry looks. DiNozzo seemed to be unaware, but Gibbs knew that had to be an act.

After dinner was over, Gibbs and DiNozzo took their leave. Sullivan explained that he and Nathan were due at the club and would have to change. Gibbs would imagine so, since it would be somewhat difficult to go anywhere with Nathan completely naked. Once again, he and DiNozzo rode in the back seat of the sedan. When he put his arm around Tony, the younger man leaned into him slightly. Gibbs suspected he wasn't even aware of it.

They returned to the hotel room, and Gibbs wondered how soon they could reasonably retreat to the bathroom. Rudy settled into a chair with a book like he'd sat there most of the day, and Gibbs suspected that he had. Mark disappeared into the other room. "Gibbs, I need a report on what happened to DiNozzo," Morrow said.

Gibbs glanced over at DiNozzo, who was standing at the window, looking out. "Vellucci?"

Tony turned around. "Yeah Boss?"

"Here," he said, pointing at the ground by his feet. Tony walked over and, after the briefest of hesitations, knelt in front of him. Gibbs hadn't actually intended that, but he didn't make any sign that he hadn't. He rested his hand on Tony's head. "What happened today, boy?"

"Mr. Sullivan came, Boss," Tony said. "He spoke to me like he owned me."

"I see. What was the disrespect that he complained of?"

"He told me what he would do to me if I was his."

"And?"

"It was . . ." Tony paused, glancing at Rudy. ". . . lame and stereotypical."

Gibbs sighed. "What did you say?"

Tony looked down. "I didn't say anything, Boss."

"What did you do?"

"I rolled my eyes, Boss," Tony said.

Gibbs drew in a breath and looked across at the window. He could imagine the expression quite easily, and a man like Sullivan would not react well to it. He sighed with a measure of resignation. DiNozzo had played Vellucci like himself without quite as many brakes, and it was coming back to bite them. He tapped the top of Tony's head. "And what happened?"

"He hit me," Tony replied.

"Did you respond in any way to that?"

"No, Boss," Tony said.

"You were disrespectful." Tony nodded, looking contrite "What do you say, boy?"

"I'm sorry, Boss."

He looked up as if just noticing Rudy's presence. "Go into the bathroom and prepare for your punishment."

Tony rose and went into the bathroom, head down. Gibbs walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a paddle that Zack had provided. On second thought, he also grabbed a pair of DiNozzo's pajama pants, then followed. DiNozzo was still attempting to get out of the leather pants. Gibbs was honestly not sure how he'd managed to kneel in them, they were so tight. Gibbs closed the door, locked it, then walked over and turned on the water. It was still on that heavy massage setting, so it was very loud.

Tony looked up. "What are they going to think?"

"That I'm trying to drown out the sounds of the paddle and any cries you might make. After all, there are presumably people in the next room over." Tony's eyes widened at the sight of the paddle Gibbs waved to illustrate his point.

"Right," he said.

He reached out and picked up DiNozzo's toothbrush holder and the other agent took it and put his earwig back in. "Now, what else happened this afternoon?"

"I was on full surveillance then," Tony said, clearly confused. "You don't know?"

"They neglected to tell me," Gibbs replied. "So, what happened?"

"He came over to inform me that when he'd gotten you sufficiently indebted to him for your new start, he was going to ask for a repayment of the debt, and he implied that repayment would be me. He wasn't clear if he meant a permanent thing or if it was to be a loan."

"Was that before or after he told you what he would do to you?"

"Before," Tony said, and Gibbs nodded. "He asked if I went with you willingly, and I said yes. He told me he'd take me, willing or not, and it was really lame. I couldn't help the reaction. It won't happen again."

"Anything else?"

"Oh, he started out asking if I was scared of him, and I said no. After all that, he told me to take off my pants and I said you wouldn't like it, and that I only take your orders."

"What about the clothes?"

Morrow interrupted. "Gibbs, I'm going to want you to come in for a while anyway. You can watch and hear the surveillance footage then."

"Fine. What happened when you went off surveillance?"

Tony shrugged. "They took me down to the car and we were stuck in traffic for at least a half hour. Nothing happened in the car."

"What about when you got to the club?"

"They took me into that room, and it was only Sullivan, Rudy, Mark and I for a little while. He . . . looked me over and told me I shouldn't have fought the clothes. Then he threw a quarter on the floor and asked me to pick it up." Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but these damned pants made it a bit challenging, especially since my hands were already cuffed behind me at that point."

"How'd you pick it up then, Tony?" Kate asked.

Tony's expression changed. "Take a wild guess, Kate," he said irritably.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs said mildly.

Tony's lips tightened. "I picked it up with my teeth, which gave him quite the view in these stupid pants." He let out a grunt when he finally got them down past his hips. It didn't help all that much, the legs were almost as tight, but it was progress at least.

"Then?"

"Then he sent for Nathan, and asked me again if I was afraid. I said no, again. Nathan got there at the same time the news that you were arriving outside did. He ordered us to kneel in our spots and left."

"That's it, then?"

"That's it." He dragged one leg free of the pants and let out a groan of relief.

"Put out your leg," Gibbs said, and Tony did, looking puzzled. Gibbs took the hem of the pant leg and yanked. DiNozzo let out a muted whoop, and Gibbs dropped the pants. He blinked at the bruises on DiNozzo's legs but didn't say anything about them. "Now, something you need to know. This case has grown even more serious." DiNozzo's brows went up. "Sullivan may be selling weapons to insurgents in Afghanistan."

Tony blinked at him silently for a moment. "So we really need to get him," Tony said, and Gibbs nodded, glad that he still saw things that way.

"Yeah." Gibbs considered the next few hours. "Okay, Tony, take a shower. I'm going to go out into the other room and make some calls. I won't leave until you come out. I don't want you getting caught without your ears again."

Tony nodded. "I appreciate that, Boss." He put the earwig into the toothbrush holder and climbed into the shower as Gibbs left. He got himself cleaned up quickly, not stopping to examine the variety of bruises he was developing. He'd seen Gibbs notice the new ones on his legs, but he didn't want to look too closely at them himself. And since Gibbs was waiting to go meet with Morrow until Tony had finished his shower, he was swift about it. As soon as he was done, he got out, cleaned out his ear with a Q-Tip, then put the earbud back in, grateful to be able to hear his back up again.

Pulling on the clean pajama pants, he gathered up his clothes and went out into the main room. Gibbs saw him and walked over. Tony wasn't sure what to expect, but he tried to be ready for anything. Nevertheless, when Gibbs put a hand behind his head and leaned in for a kiss, Tony wasn't prepared for full tongue. He thought he reacted pretty smoothly, but he wondered how long Gibbs had been psyching himself up for it. When Gibbs was done, he took a step back, and Tony stared at him. "Now, be good this time, boy."

"Yes Boss," Tony said, and if he sounded a bit stunned, he hoped Rudy took it for blissed out. Gibbs left, and Tony walked slowly over to the bed and put down the clothes. He sorted out belt and wallet from clothing, then went and grabbed Gibbs' dirty clothes. In this relationship, it would fall to him to see to issues of laundry, after all. He put them all in a bag, wrote detailed instructions for the cleaning of his clothes, then went to the phone.

"Who are you calling, Vellucci?" Rudy asked.

"My aromatherapist," Tony said sarcastically. "Why, are you feeling stressed? Do you need jasmine? Or maybe lavender?"

"You can't call outside the hotel."

"You think this hotel doesn't have an aromatherapist?" Tony asked. "I'll lay you odds it does."

"Who are you calling?"

"The front desk," Tony snapped. "Laundry service."

Rudy pursed his lips, but nodded, and Tony refrained from rolling his eyes with great effort. He picked up the phone and called the front desk. A few moments later Amber from the next row of cubicles at the office showed up in a maid's uniform. He posed in the doorway, giving her a grin, and she responded with giggles. "You have laundry, sir?"

"Oh, I'm not a sir," Tony said. "You sure you can carry this?" he asked, holding out his bag.

She responded with more giggles, took the bag and left, but Tony was heartened to see someone from work. Especially a really cute someone who was looking at him like he was being brave. Maybe after this was over, he could try asking her out on a date again, and this time she'd actually say yes.

He closed the door and walked over to the bed, moving slowly as if he was in pain. He remembered some extremely vicious spankings from childhood that had been administered with a ping pong paddle, and he was using that unpleasant memory to his advantage. The housekeeper hadn't appreciated some of his early efforts at practical jokes, and neither his mother nor his father had seemed to care.

"He really walloped you, didn't he?" Rudy asked

Tony froze, trying to decide if Tony Vellucci would let that pass. Then he grinned and turned to look at Rudy over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes. "And I'll bet you wish it was you," he said, wiggling his behind, then giving a realistic wince as if the movement had hurt.

"No, I wish he'd done it out here, where I could watch. I've been looking forward to your punishment all day, you annoying little prick."

"Oh, what, would you rather I sat over here like a lump all day and did nothing?"

"Yes," Rudy said frankly.

Tony blinked at him. "Man, you're boring." Rudy shrugged the insult off. "Well, think of it this way, I've done you a favor."

"How's that?"

"If my boss pisses your boss off enough for him to have you kill me, you'll enjoy your work."

In his ear he heard the words, "DiNozzo, are you nuts?" He thought it was Agent Wallace.

"Oh, he won't have you killed," Rudy said with an unpleasant laugh. Tony did roll his eyes at what he knew had to be a lie, but then Rudy went on. "He wants to keep you. He'd kill your boss."

Tony felt shudder of fear that he kept purely internal. To Rudy he showed a face full of bravado. "He can try." Then he turned towards the bed, grabbed the remote and a pillow to lean on, then lay down on his stomach to turn the TV on. He flipped through several crime shows and settled on an episode of _The Dick Van Dyke Show_. He checked to see what was on next. Another episode of _Dick Van Dyke_ , and then an hour of _The Mary Tyler Moore Show._ Easy watching, easy to tune out if someone started talking in his ear.


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs stood in Abby’s lab watching the video of Mark and Rudy forcing Tony into the clothing Sullivan had provided for him.  Kate and McGee stood behind him, and Abby was watching from behind her computer.  Of the four of them, only Abby had seen it before.  McGee looked deeply uncomfortable, and Gibbs could tell that Kate was forcing a calm demeanor.  “Why did he fight them?” she asked.  “They overpowered him when he was really trying to get away.”

“At the hotel?” McGee asked.

“Right.”

“He had to,” Abby said.  “He’s told people over and over that he has instructions not to allow anyone to touch him without Gibbs’ permission.  If he didn’t fight when they tried to put the clothes on him, it would be inconsistent with that.”

“No, I see that, but why not just put the clothes on?”

“Because they weren’t from his master,” Gibbs said, and Kate looked at him with a puzzled expression, he took a deep breath and came up with an analogy he thought she’d understand.  “Do you think a married man would look kindly on his wife putting on sexy lingerie given to her by another man?”

Kate’s mouth opened, then closed.  She started nodding.  “I see,” she said.  “I guess that makes sense.”

“What now?” McGee asked.

“The situation hasn’t changed significantly, McGee,” Gibbs said.  “Only now it’s a lot more important that we succeed.”

“You told Tony?” Kate asked.

“He knows.”  Gibbs watched the remainder of the footage silently, then said, “Switch to live feed, Abby.”

They were treated to an image of Tony lying on his stomach on the bed, watching something on TV.  The angle was wrong to see what.  Beyond him they could see Rudy, who was reading.  The door to the next room was still open, and so far as Gibbs could see, everything was normal.  Abby flipped to another camera that showed the scene from a different angle, but nothing looked any different.

“Who’s your relief?” he asked Kate.

“Gorman and Nash,” she said.

“Gibbs?”  He turned to find Director Morrow coming into the room.  “This looks like it’s going to be longer term than we had initially thought, and that room is going to be a problem.  You and DiNozzo have nowhere to be private but the bathroom, and that won’t work.”

“No sir,” Gibbs said.

“I’ve arranged for another set of rooms.  Abby, can you pull up a map of the eighteenth floor?”  She tapped a bit and nodded.  They all looked up at her big screen.  Morrow took a pen out of his pocket and pointed to a set of rooms on a corner.  “Margaret Hanson and Adrian Goldschmidt checked into this room this evening as a married couple on an extended vacation.”

“In Alexandria, Virginia?” Abby asked incredulously, but bit her lip when the director looked at her.

“It’s fairly central for a number of historical sites,” Morrow said.  “They’ll have to be seen coming and going, but they’ll be on site at night, in case anything goes wrong then.”

“Right,” Gibbs said.

“This suite will be for you and DiNozzo.  It has a sitting room and a separate bedroom that does not have an independent exit on the hallway.  That should suit our friend’s paranoid tendencies.”

“It doesn’t suit mine,” Gibbs said sourly.

Morrow nodded but didn’t address the issue.  “This room is also reserved, under the name Rudy Moran.  He seems to be the senior of the two bodyguards.  If Sullivan doesn’t choose to take up the reservation, he doesn’t have to, but if he does, they can move in at any time.”

“Does it have a connecting door?” Gibbs asked.

“It does, but it also has private space for you two.  It seemed a reasonable compromise.”

“Yes, it does,” Gibbs said, but he didn’t feel like being reasonable.

“Here’s the paperwork.  I’ll leave it to you to figure out how Gibson would handle it.”

Gibbs took it and glowered.  Both the suite and the adjoining room were reserved under Gibson Howe’s American Express card.  “Are we prepared to pay for two goons to menace DiNozzo?” he asked dryly.

“When they register, they’ll have to use their own cards,” Morrow said.

“Right.”  Gibbs folded the papers and tucked them away.

“Are you ready to go back?”  Gibbs nodded.  “Good luck.  I don’t think we’d better meet again for a few days at least.”

“I agree.”

Before Gibbs could go anywhere, Abby launched herself at him.  “Be careful!” she said firmly.  “And give Tony a hug from me.”

“Right.”

“You are hugging him, Gibbs, so you can.”

“Abby?” Gibbs said.

“Okay, Howe is hugging Vellucci.  Still.  You can pass the message, can’t you?”

“Good night Abby.”  He turned to Kate and McGee.  “Get some sleep.  Sullivan and I arranged to meet in the hotel lobby at nine.”

McGee nodded nervously, and Kate said, “Sure, Gibbs.”

On the drive back to the hotel, he tried to absorb all the information Morrow had given him.  Sullivan was very dirty, from the sound of it, and when they proved it, it would tarnish a number of careers.  He’d been sheltering behind friends both in Congress and in the highest ranks of the Corps.  Even if the truth wasn’t made public, there were men who would be forced to retire.

He reached the hotel just before ten and went straight up.  Tony was still on his stomach on the bed, but Rudy had changed places with Mark.  Tony looked up as he entered, then turned off the TV.  He shifted sideways to the edge of the bed and got up, moving gingerly so that Gibbs almost believed he’d been beaten.  He stood waiting, as if for instructions.  Gibbs beckoned him over, and Tony made a meal of the walk, as if he was still in a fair amount of pain.  “I didn’t hit you that hard, boy,” Gibbs said with a bit of starch.

Tony grinned impishly at him.  “Hard enough,” he said as he stopped within easy reach.

Gibbs pulled him into a tight hug and, thinking of the cover, squeezed his butt cheek, too.  Tony winced, but Gibbs was impressed.  It wasn’t a theatrical, overdone reaction, it was actually quite believable.  “Get everything but what we’ll need for tomorrow packed up.  We’re changing rooms.”  Tony had probably been informed, but he nodded and went to start work.  His movements were a little freer now, and Gibbs hoped it looked like he’d been playing up the level of hurt.

Mark stood up.  “What?” he demanded.

“I said we’re changing rooms,” Gibbs said calmly.  “I hadn’t expected to make a prolonged stay here with my boy, nor with . . . guests, so I didn’t really make proper provisions.”

“Mr. Sullivan will not be pleased.”

Rudy came in, his hair a little mussed, but he didn’t look at all sleepy.  “What’s going on?”

“They’re changing rooms.”

Gibbs pulled out the reservations and handed Rudy the one with his name on it.  “I think Mr. Sullivan will understand,” he said.  “That room adjoins the sitting room of the suite I’ve reserved for myself.”

Rudy looked at it, blinking.  “I’ll have to contact Mr. Sullivan.”

“Feel free,” Gibbs said with a shrug.  “But I believe he’d prefer that his evening remain uninterrupted.”

Rudy nodded and looked over at Mark.  “I’ll call him in the morning, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Yes, I’m sure that it will,” Gibbs said, and Rudy raised his chin at the subtle challenge in his voice.  “I don’t mean to interrupt your rest,” he added.  Rudy’s eyes narrowed, but he left the room.

Tony had already packed Gibbs’ stuff, now he was painstakingly packing his own.  “I sent our laundry to the hotel cleaners, Boss,” Tony said.

“And?  Are you looking for a pat on the head, boy?”

Tony blinked at him.  “No, Boss, though it would be nice.  I just don’t want it to get lost.”  Gibbs just looked at him, the way he would in the office if Tony was being somewhat dense about the next step.  “So in the morning I’ll call down and make sure they know we’re moving,” Tony said after a moment.  “Boss.”

“Good boy,” Gibbs said, patting his cheek.  He went to use the facilities, and when he came out, Tony was still at work.  Gibbs went and sat down to read the newspaper.  He rarely went to bed as early as eleven.  Usually he spent more of the night in woodworking than in sleeping.  When Tony finished the packing, he walked over and knelt down beside the chair.  Gibbs was startled, but he supposed he shouldn’t be.  In theory, these two men had that relationship.  He reached out and tousled Tony’s hair before returning to the paper.

“Boss?” Tony said tentatively after several minutes passed..

“Yes, boy?”

“I left my weapons in the safe till morning.  Will we be moving ourselves, or will the hotel be moving our things while we’re out?”

“The latter,” Gibbs said.  “I’ll take the lock boxes down to the front desk when I make the other arrangements.”

“Yes Boss.”

Tony fell silent, but stayed where he was, and gradually Gibbs realized that he would have to release his ‘pet’ from that position.  He touched Tony’s head, and Tony leaned into the touch.  “I’ll be along to bed shortly,” he said.  “Do what you will.”  He pulled his hand back to turn the page and Tony rose to his feet.  He went to the bathroom for a short while, then turned the TV back on and watched from his stomach again.

Around half past twelve, Gibbs rose, folded the paper and made a last trip to the bathroom.  When he got to the bed, he found that Tony had fallen asleep on his face.  He tapped the younger man on the head, and he came up into a crouch on the bed, staring around as if looking for threats.  “Bedtime, Tony,” he said in a soothing voice, and Tony blinked at him muzzily.  Then he climbed into bed and, after a moment, snuggled up to him and fell asleep again almost immediately.

Gibbs lay awake for a while, though he simulated sleep for Mark’s benefit.  He really needed to be able to talk to DiNozzo away from microphones and from the unfriendlies.  He wanted to know how DiNozzo was really holding up.  He seemed fine, but he was the one under real and constant threat here.  Sullivan might try and kill Gibbs, but Gibbs was prepared for that as Gibson Howe would be.  Unless things went so far south that they had to abandon the op, DiNozzo would be unable to protect himself, and Sullivan practically drooled when he looked at him.  Gibbs didn’t fully understand it, but Sullivan wanted Tony almost more than he wanted their business.  If that balance ever tipped towards Tony, they were in a world of hurt, and if it had happened tonight, they might have had real trouble.

What he hadn’t told Tony yet was that while he was off surveillance, his back up team had lost the car for fifteen minutes until one of them had walked up the street and visually sighted it stopped in traffic and spotted him inside.  Gibbs himself hadn’t known till Morrow told him this evening.  If Rudy and Mark had been taking DiNozzo somewhere other than the club, Wallace and Garner might not have known for another half hour or so, and at that point they wouldn’t even have known where to look.

If the charges weren’t so serious, if they had another option, he would pull the plug right now, but they had to play the hand they were dealt.  He just wished he could tell for certain how DiNozzo was coping and how close to the edge he was riding at the moment.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony had considered his clothes for the day with care.  He wasn’t going as a boy toy today, or not only as a boy toy.  Today he was also Gibson’s lieutenant.  Gibbs was wearing his typical type of outfit, so Tony had put out a pair of good, dark jeans and a long sleeved, tailored shirt, and he planned to wear his leather jacket.  He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, buttoning his shirt, when the door opened and Gibbs came in.  He shut the door behind him and locked it.

“You gonna take a shower, Boss?” Tony asked.

“I need one,” Gibbs said.  He turned on the water.  “And I’ve got some things to tell you.”

Tony turned, finishing his buttons.  “What’s up?”

“Yesterday, when you were off surveillance, Garner and Wallace missed you coming out of the hotel.”

Tony blinked at him.  “What?”

“They lost you for fifteen minutes.”

“They lost me?” Tony repeated.  “They . . .”  He leaned back against the bathroom counter and contemplated that information.  “From when we left the hotel?”

“Yeah.”  Gibbs pursed his lips.  “You okay?”

“Sure,” Tony said.  “The fact that if Mark had turned left instead of right on Fifth and bypassed that whole traffic jam, he could have taken me anywhere and Wallace and Grommet wouldn’t have had a clue?”  Gibbs grimaced.  “That doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Maybe we should have gone with the suppository GPS chip,” Abby said in Tony’s ear.

“Under the circumstances, no,” Tony replied.  “They’d stand a good chance of finding it.”

“Oh.  Ouch.”

Tony grinned sardonically.  He could almost see Abby’s face in his mind’s eye.  “So, are Wallace and Grommet on me today?”  Gibbs seemed satisfied with Tony’s reaction.  He got into the shower.

Kate spoke in the earwig.  “It’s going to be me and McGee in one car with Garner and Wallace in the other, just in case they split you up.”

“Cheery thought,” Tony said.  “Tell Wallace and Grommet to keep better track today.  I may be pretending to be Gibbs’ dog, but I don’t want to end up as a chew toy.”

There was a brief silence, then Kate said, “They can hear you, Tony.”

“Good.”  Tony turned back to the mirror and finished getting ready.  He was really glad he wasn’t playing this as a girly boy.  Make up was irritating, and he’d had to use it once in a while when he’d worked undercover for vice.  It also cut down on the primping and the potential for cracks later.

He tapped the curtain and Gibbs poked his head out.  He pointed towards the door and Gibbs nodded.  Leaving the bathroom, he sat down on the bed for his socks and shoes.  Rudy and Mark were still reading and playing with puzzles.  As soon as he was completely ready, Tony went and grabbed his guns from the safe.  Both Rudy and Mark were suddenly on their feet with their guns out and pointing at him.

“What are you doing, Vellucci?” Rudy demanded.

Tony put the guns back into the safe and took a step back, his hands up.  “I was going to put them in their lock boxes for storage today,” he said.

Gibbs emerged wearing his pants and shirt and saw Rudy and Mark drawn on Tony.  He stepped between Tony and the two bodyguards.  “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.  “Do I have to shoot you idiots?”

“He’s not allowed weapons while we’re guarding him.  Mr. Sullivan made that clear.”

Gibbs stared at them for a moment.  “Is he holding a gun now?” he asked.  Both men slowly put their weapons away.  “Tony, go get the lock boxes,” Gibbs said when they’d holstered their guns.  Tony lowered his hands and walked over to where they’d stashed their luggage.  He pulled out the two pistol cases and brought them over.  “Put them on the bed.”  Tony did as he’d been told.  “Now, come get your weapons and put them in the cases.”

Rudy shook his head and moved to intercept as Tony crossed the room.  “Mr. Howe, I just said –”

Gibbs turned and he didn’t even have to speak.  Rudy faded back and Tony walked to the safe unmolested.  He picked up his guns, carried them back to the lock boxes and secured them inside.  He then handed the keys to Gibbs, who pocketed them.

“Now, Tony, pick up the boxes and come with me.”

Tony followed Gibbs out of the room.  Rudy and Mark hastened after them.  Gibbs went to the front desk, arranged to have the lock boxes lodged in the hotel vault, and then checked into the new rooms, got the keys and arranged for their luggage to be moved.

“Everything should be ready for you in 1811 by three, sir,” the young woman behind the desk told him.  Rudy was checking into 1812 and making similar arrangements for his and Mark’s luggage.  Tony glanced at his phone.  It was five till nine.

Within moments, a black limousine pulled up.  Mark opened the rear door and Tony stepped forward to look in, checking for threats.  Sullivan was the only passenger.  He was sitting in the far forward-facing seat.  Tony nodded at Gibbs, who gestured him inside.  Tony climbed in and sat in the far rear-facing seat.  Too close to Sullivan by half, but there wasn’t anyplace to sit that was much farther away.  Gibbs came in and Sullivan patted the seat next to him.  Gibbs took it and that wound up with Rudy in the second rear-facing seat and Mark in the front with the driver.  This put both Tony’s bodyguards in easy reach of him, since the glass between the front and back wasn’t up.  Tony felt fairly hemmed in, but since he was pretty sure that was Sullivan’s goal, he found that unsurprising.

“Good morning, Gibson,” Sullivan said genially.  “I gather you found the space you had too little for your purposes?”

“Too little to be shared by four men,” Gibbs said.  “Your guards will stay out of the bedroom of the new suite.”

“We can discuss that later,” Sullivan said, his mood suddenly less pleasant.

“You brought it up, and I want it settled,” Gibbs replied.

“Well, then, if you’re in there with the door locked, they will stay out.  Other than that, they will enter whenever they feel the need.”

Gibbs raised his chin and looked at him curiously.  “Define ‘feel the need.’”

“Gibson, your pet has claws.  My men need to be able to check up on him when you’re not around.”  Tony didn’t like this conversation, nor the way Sullivan looked at him when he said the word ‘claws.’  He tried to submerge himself in the mind of a man who expected to be talked about rather than to.

“Yes, well, your men have a hair trigger that needs to be remedied.  Vellucci went to put his guns in their lock boxes for storage in the hotel vault, per my instructions, and nearly got shot.”

Sullivan raised an eyebrow at Rudy.  “He didn’t warn us or anything, sir,” Rudy said with a glower at Tony.  “He just walked over to the safe and pulled out his guns.  We didn’t know why or what for.”

“You see, Gibson, they weren’t being hair triggered, they were being careful.”

Gibbs looked unsatisfied, but he didn’t continue the discussion.  “Where are we going?”

“I’ve got some people for you to meet in Richmond.”

That was a two hour drive plus, so Tony settled himself more comfortably.  He kept abreast of the conversation between Gibbs and Sullivan, but focused his attention more on nonverbal cues.  Sullivan came across as entirely relaxed.  Not surprisingly, Gibbs radiated tension.  It fit the situation, so he didn’t worry about it, but tried hard to make sure that he came across as less anxious.  After all, Vellucci should be trusting in Howe to keep him safe, though he supposed the stress his ‘master’ was showing would have an effect on his mood.

He couldn’t spot the follow cars, which was a good thing.  It meant that Rudy couldn’t spot them either.  Every so often Kate would say something, or Wallace, just to let them know they were still back there.  He actually wished Wallace would keep his mouth shut.  Every time he heard the man’s voice, he remembered what Gibbs had told him and his stomach twisted.  The only thing that had held him together during that alarming hour of being off mike and without his earwig was the thought that Wallace and Garner were out there, that they knew where he was, and that they could and would come in if anything looked hinky.  Like if Mark decided to take him someplace other than the club, for instance.  He was glad he hadn’t known at the time.

Sullivan pulled out some Coke and offered one to Gibbs.  He shook his head, raising his coffee in explanation, but gestured towards Tony.  Tony took it with pleasure.  It was sealed, and he was thirsty.  Besides, it gave him something to do.  This being next to a conversation but not allowed – without permission – to be part of it was weird.  He had managed to maintain control thus far, not even letting his comments get to the point where it was obvious he wanted to say something, but he was concentrating.  If he ever relaxed, he’d probably pipe right up with an out of place comment.  Being shirtless and on his knees helped with that.  It kind of pointed up the difference between his current role and normal life.  Even the collar helped, but he wasn’t wearing that just now.

“We could send Tony,” Gibbs said, and Tony’s attention was drawn instantly to the here and now.

“Not at this time.”

“If you want to see how my operation could benefit you, it doesn’t make sense to constrain my right arm,” Gibbs replied.

“Is that how you view him?” Sullivan asked, looking slyly at Tony.  “What does he do besides bird dog?”

“Whatever I want,” Gibbs replied.  “Runs errands, breaks legs, finds people.  He’s very good at finding people.”

“So he’s a bloodhound as well as a bird dog.  How nice for you that he’s versatile.”  The words themselves were innocent enough, it was the tone and the sidelong glance that turned it into a sexual comment.

“I don’t suppose you could can the innuendo?” Gibbs asked wearily.  Tony would be good with that, too.  It was getting harder not to show overt discomfort when Sullivan leered at him.

Tony looked over at Gibbs.  After a moment, Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “Send me where, Boss?” Tony asked.

“You were not invited to speak,” Sullivan said sharply.

“Actually, he was,” Gibbs said, and Sullivan turned to him, startled.  “I think you can trust me to keep my boy in line, Doug.”

Sullivan looked at Tony for a long moment.  “I never know what to expect from him.  He’s such a curious mix.”

“We’re not a typical pair,” Gibbs said.  He turned to Tony.  “Doug was saying that he had money that needed to be collected from one of his customers.”  He turned back to Sullivan.  “Who would you ordinarily send?”

“Marino, but he’s restricted to the club at the moment.”

“I’d be happy to help out,” Tony said.

Sullivan shook his head.  “It’s a job for one man, not a party of three.”

“So send Vellucci alone,” Gibbs suggested persuasively.

“Here we are,” Sullivan said.

The driver had pulled up into a complex of warehouses and parked in a spot designed for a semi-truck.  Mark came round and opened the door on Gibbs’ side of the car.  Rudy got out first, then Tony, then Gibbs and Sullivan.  Tony took his place just behind Gibbs’ left shoulder as they headed towards the nearest building, which didn’t have the look of a warehouse.  It looked more like an office.

The first room they came to inside was an ordinary enough office for a warehouse.  Linoleum floors that had seen better days, metal desks with computers and clipboards and random personal doodads.  The chairs were better than he might have expected.  Evidently someone had heard of ergonomics.  Since it was Saturday, the desks were empty.  Sullivan seemed to know where he was going, though.  He led the way to a door at the other side.  It opened onto a hallway.  They passed a break room and a couple of individual offices with names stenciled on the closed doors.  The door at the end of the hall bore the name Federov.

Sullivan walked up to the door and knocked before opening it.  “Simon?”

“Come in.  I’m just finishing up some damned paperwork,” said a bad-tempered voice.

“It never ends, does it?” Sullivan said.  “I brought a new colleague to meet you.”

“You mentioned you might,” the voice said, then Tony was in the room and he saw a plush office that was head and shoulders above the rest of the building in terms of luxury, and somewhere under a bordello in the area of taste.  There was a large desk at one end of the room, between two of the floor to ceiling windows that let light into all the rooms they’d seen so far.  It was piled high with papers that Tony suspected were filed in the ‘I can find everything’ method that one of his father’s friends used.  The man worked in an apparent state of chaos but could put his hand unerringly on any piece of paper he wanted at any given time.

“Simon, this is Gibson Howe, Gibson, Simon is one of the men I’d want you to be helping supply.”

Simon looked up, his eyes peering over the glasses he clearly wore for reading.  He was a small man, entirely bald on top with curly grey hair cropped close to his head.  “Oh, this is the fellow Marino was telling me about.  Which would make this . . .”  He turned towards Tony, eyes frankly appraising.

Gibbs got one look at Simon’s expression and said, “Mine.  “He’s mine.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Simon said, smiling at Tony.  “We could have such fun.”  Tony edged slightly closer to Gibbs.  He hadn’t expected to be on the menu here, too.  “I can see you’re very attached, though, so I won’t push.”

Simon invited them all to the other end of the room where there were three chairs around a coffee table.  Taking the center chair with its back to the wall between the windows, he invited Gibbs and Sullivan to be seated on either side, then said, “I can get a cushion for your boy, if you like.”

“That’s not why he’s here,” Gibbs said.  Tony had taken up a spot against the wall behind Gibbs.  He leaned back and crossed his arms, keeping an eye on the room.  Rudy and Mark, robbed of the ability to stand behind him, wound up on either side of the door.  He supposed they could stop him if he bolted.  It was ludicrous.

“Not sure what good he’ll do keeping watch without weapons, Gibson,” Sullivan said.

Gibbs shrugged and they began to discuss business.  Again, Tony kept abreast of the conversation about the kinds of things Simon needed, and the schedule, but paid more direct attention to body language.  Simon and Sullivan both kept glancing up at him, but not for the same reason.  He got the feeling that Simon felt uncertain about Tony’s position in the situation.  He had expectations that weren’t being met, but he wasn’t so much upset about it as confused.  Sullivan’s gaze kept drifting from the faces of his companions to Tony, almost as if he couldn’t help it.  Tony pretended not to notice, but Sullivan was altogether too aware of Tony’s presence.  Tony could see the tension rising in the three men.  Gibbs wanted Sullivan to keep his eyes off Tony, Sullivan wanted . . . what Sullivan wanted, and Simon was aware of the dynamic but uncertain what to do about it.

After maybe twenty minutes of this, Simon leaned forward, looking mildly frazzled, and said, “Would you like a tour of the facility, Gibson?”

“I don’t know if we have time,” Gibbs said, glancing at Sullivan.  There was no answer.  Tony had been looking at Simon, but the silence made him look at Sullivan.  Their eyes met because Sullivan had been watching him again, and Tony felt a deep, internal shudder at the hunger he saw there.  By a dint of great effort and many years’ practice at covert work, Tony kept his reaction off his face, but he felt it all the more strongly because he couldn’t express it.  “Doug?” Gibbs said curtly to catch his attention, and Sullivan turned away.

It was palpable relief to have Sullivan’s gaze off him, and he was afraid that reaction showed more plainly than it should.  Sullivan could still see him past Gibbs’ head, so any expression on his face would be visible.

“Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“Maybe you should try concentrating on the matter at hand,” Gibbs suggested icily.  “Simon offered a tour of the facility.  I said I wasn’t sure if we had time.”

Sullivan glanced at the baroque clock on the wall and stood up.  “We don’t, I’m afraid.  Sorry, Simon.”

“No, it’s fine,” Simon said, rising with almost comical haste.  His words tumbled over each other as he hurried forward to shake Gibbs’ hand.  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Gibson.  I look forward to doing business with you.”

Gibbs nodded and walked off with Sullivan towards the door.  Tony followed, but he caught a glimpse of Simon’s face as he watched him walk by, and there was pity in his expression, as if he suspected he knew what was coming.  It didn’t boost Tony’s mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the other website, someone asked asked about Kate being 'useless' so far. No one here has asked, but I thought someone might be wondering and not comfortable enough to ask, so I thought I'd address it here, too.
> 
> This is a fair question, but from my watching of the show, I always found it perplexing that 'profiler' Kate was so clueless about certain aspects of sexuality. To my mind, she interpreted the most innocent remarks of Tony's as innuendo, and he gave back as good as he got and wound up looking like a jerk up against "innocent, Roman Catholic Kate." But there's an episode when they stand there in the squad staring at a sexually explicit, kind of darkish bondage website, and all she can think of to say is "I'm going to hell just for looking at this," or words to that effect, and the questions she asked seemed fairly naive.
> 
> I've since thought about it, and her profiling training comes from the Secret Service, where her focus was on protecting the president and family. Sexual predators seem to be the least likely she'd face in that circumstance, so perhaps that's why her understanding in that area is somewhat flawed. (I don't know for certain how profiling training works in various agencies, so this is me noodling.) She's always better when, sexually, at any rate, she's dealing with heterosexual, relatively conventional circumstances, which these are not.
> 
> I can say, that in later chapters, she shows up pretty BAMF! But, to be fair, I will consider the upcoming chapters in that light and see if my perspective on the character portrayal shifts. I doubt it, I've read the story ten or twelve times (I like to reread my own work, vanity, they name is Eideann.) but I will look.
> 
> Thanks to mamamia1964 for letting me know about a mistake. Edited per her comment. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Flag Day!! Long may it wave!

They got back into the limo and Tony was almost glad to settle into the seat opposite Sullivan. Gibbs was in an entirely different direction, so Sullivan would have to turn his head to look at him. He couldn't simply allow his eyes to drift away from the man he was talking to.

"Are all of your colleagues players?" Gibbs asked suddenly, and Tony looked up, all ears.

Sullivan shrugged. "I warned you that you'd be letting your catch be seen. I wouldn't have said that about men who wouldn't be interested."

"Then maybe it's just as well they see him now and understand that he's mine," Gibbs said with deceptive mildness. Tony could tell that Sullivan got the not so subtle jab at himself. "I wouldn't want anyone to be confused."

"Of course not," Sullivan said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. They didn't have nearly as far to go this time, but Tony's stomach was informing him that lunch time was fast approaching. Fortunately, their next stop was a restaurant where they met with Eli George, a tall thin fellow with thinning dark hair and piercing green eyes.

George didn't look twice at Tony. Sullivan introduced Gibbs, but he didn't mention Tony's name, and the guy seemed to take him as part of the scenery. He got straight down to business with Gibbs, and his business was apparently weapons. Tony began to pray that this was their traitorous arms smuggling accomplice, but when Gibbs mentioned something diffidently about export, George shook his head. "No exporting, I import only. There's no money in export unless it's in bulk, and I mainly deal in specialty items. Your collectors, they know what they want, they've got the money, and they don't care if it's legal."

After lunch they got back into the limo, and Tony wondered how long this rolling meet and greet was going to last. They'd already have long drive back to the hotel. Their third stop was a factory. The gates rolled open a moment after the chauffeur brought the car to a stop outside them. Once inside, he pulled around to the left and parked.

As he followed Rudy out of the car, Tony became aware suddenly that he was putting his butt on full view for Sullivan every time he climbed out of the car before he did. It made him self-conscious, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Doug, come in, come in. It's cold out there." The door had opened while they got out, and a man stood there in shirt sleeves. He was a thickset man with reddish hair, solid rather than fat. He didn't stop once they were inside, but led them straight onto the factory floor. It wasn't noticeably warmer in there, but Tony supposed the lack of wind was a bonus. "Now, introductions. My name is Gerry Hogan, and you must be Gibson Howe."

"I must be," Gibbs said and shook the offered hand. Hogan looked over Gibbs' shoulder at Tony and took him in greedily. He could almost feel the man undressing him with his eyes. Then a measure of pain entered Hogan's expression, and his eyes shot to Gibbs' face. "So, what is all this?" Gibbs asked in a pleasant voice.

Hogan rubbed his hand as though it hurt, and Tony bet it did. "I thought you might enjoy a tour," he said.

"A tour, Hogan?" Sullivan said.

"My office isn't free, Doug," Hogan replied in an undertone. "You chose a bad day for this visit."

"A tour sounds fine." Gibbs looked over towards the machine that took up most of the floor. "You make, what here?"

"Chain, chain link, wire of various gauges," Hogan replied. He walked over and patted the machine Gibbs had indicated. "This machine is currently set to make ten gauge chain."

"Interesting," Gibbs said, and Sullivan gave in with poor grace. They walked through the factory, Rudy and Mark staying close by but not riding in Tony's pocket. For the first little while, Tony stayed next to Gibbs, like a shadow. As they got deeper into the factory, Kate and Wallace started to break up a little. Tony wondered how close they were, or if there was some kind of interference from the factory equipment.

Hogan and Gibbs seemed to be hitting it off, at least in part because after his first consuming stare, Hogan didn't look at Tony again. Gibbs didn't try to hurry Hogan along in his long dissertations about his machines and what they could do, which didn't really surprise Tony. A man who was comfortable let facts slip, and Gibbs was making Hogan very comfortable. Sullivan, on the other hand, wasn't enjoying the tour. Tony thought it might have something to do with the fact that his casual slacks didn't provide much protection from the cold in the factory. Even in shirtsleeves, Hogan seemed fine, and Gibbs wouldn't show discomfort in anything short of an avalanche. Tony was a little chill in his jeans and thick socks, but Sullivan was dressed for heated, indoor meetings.

Unfortunately, the constant movement of the tour gave Sullivan plenty of time to stare at Tony, unseen and uninterrupted. Tony couldn't do anything himself, even to call Gibbs' attention to it would be to step out of character.

About a half hour in, Hogan started holding forth on the merits of an almost new machine that made wire. He seemed very excited about it, and it looked to Tony like he was prepared to talk for ten or fifteen minutes, easy. What had seemed at first like a delaying tactic had given way to Hogan's obvious love of his machinery. Sullivan was a good ten feet off, studying his phone. Rudy and Mark had drawn back slightly.

Hogan put a hand on Gibbs' shoulder and turned him towards the equipment, pointing. "You know he wants your boy, don't you?" he said in a conversational tone that sounded perfectly natural and wouldn't be noticed like whispering would.

"What of it?" Gibbs asked. "So do you. So have others. Vellucci is mine, he knows that, I know that and Doug knows that."

"Doug is known for poaching."

"Poaching takes two," Gibbs said. "And Tony's not interested."

Hogan glanced at Tony, his look still hungry. "You're lucky. My boy wasn't so loyal, and Doug ruined him."

Tony and Gibbs became aware of Sullivan's approach at roughly the same moment, Tony guessed by Gibbs' slight tilt of the head. Hogan wasn't quite as perceptive. When Sullivan put a hand on each man's shoulder, Hogan jumped.

"Are you still harping about Matthew, Gerry?" Sullivan said, and Tony saw Gerry's expression go from calm to fury to fearful in the space of about a second.

"Of course not."

"That wasn't poaching. If you can't keep your boy satisfied and he looks elsewhere, that's not poaching."

"Where is Matthew now?" Gibbs asked.

He shrugged and dropped his hands. "I gave him to a friend. He wasn't up to my level of play. It was a shame. He had such promise." Stepping back, he looked around at the machinery and high windows. "Now, I'm afraid I'm really not dressed for this environment, so fascinating as this all is, I think it's time we moved on to our next stop."

"Perhaps another time, then, Gibson," Hogan said.

"Perhaps," Sullivan said, his tone a little forbidding. Hogan turned and guided them back out of the factory. Tony wasn't sure of all the subtext, but he kept his eyes and ears open. The trip out was faster than the trip in had been, and they moved largely without talking. When they reached the car, Rudy and Mark started edging Tony towards it and away from Gibbs and Sullivan.

"If everything's okay, Tony," Kate said, "cough twice. We haven't heard anything for fifteen minutes."

Tony hated these contrived signals, but he coughed twice into his hand. Sullivan turned towards him with raised eyebrows. "Are you feeling quite all right, Vellucci?" he asked. "The cold of the factory doesn't appear to have been good for him. Perhaps we should have Rudy and Mark take him back to the hotel."

Gibbs, who knew perfectly well what Tony was doing, turned an amused look his way. "I don't think it's that serious. Tony?"

"Frog in my throat, Boss," Tony said.

"Well, at least have him get in the car."

Gibbs nodded at Tony, so he let Rudy and Mark guide him into the car. He climbed into the seat he'd been occupying off and on all day. Rudy joined him and Mark waited to open the door for Gibbs and Sullivan. Tony looked over to see Sullivan speaking vehemently to Hogan. Gibbs stood a little way away from them, pretending that he couldn't hear them talking.

"What's the story with those two?" Tony asked.

Rudy turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"There's clearly a history. What is it?"

"That's none of your business," Rudy said.

"Mr. Hogan seems to think it's my business."

"Mr. Hogan thinks it's your master's business," Rudy replied. "Now keep quiet before you get yourself into trouble," Rudy replied.

"I thought you liked me getting into trouble."

"Only if I get to watch the punishment, and your master isn't one for public display."

The door opened and Tony sat back in the chair, no little perturbed by the fact that Rudy hadn't been kidding when he'd said he wanted to watch Gibbs spank him. Sullivan appeared to have surrounded himself with like-minded people. It made Tony wonder how he managed to seem so straight-laced during his Monday through Friday, eight to four-thirty logistics job. A team had interviewed him and his co-workers on the pretext of a security check up, and no red flags had come up.

"Pay no attention to him, Gibson," Sullivan said. "Matthew came to me, and Gerry just hates to admit that he couldn't keep the boy happy."

"Not my problem," Gibbs said. "And I'm not particularly interested."

"Good," Sullivan replied. "Our last stop is Jacob. He's considerably less maudlin."

"And these are your primary business associates?" Gibbs asked.

"They're the ones I want you to work with initially," Sullivan corrected. He glanced at Tony. "Now, if your boy is feeling fragile, I suggest we send him back to the hotel. Jacob can be difficult at the best of times."

"Tony, are you feeling fragile?" Gibbs asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"No, Boss, I'm not,"

"Of course he'd say that. It's abundantly clear he'd do anything you asked of him."

"He knows better than to tell me he's well when he's not," Gibbs said. "He's tried that and knows what it leads to."

"Really?"

Gibbs shrugged, giving Tony a narrow look. Tony knew he was thinking of all the times he'd come back from sick leave too early. Not that Gibbs didn't do exactly the same thing, but there were different rules for Gibbs. "He's fine. I can tell."

"I'll take your word for it," Sullivan said, gazing thoughtfully at Tony.

Their next meeting was in a cube farm, but not cubicles like theirs at NCIS. No half height walls here, all the standard six feet. Of course, Tony could see over them without much effort, but they were still maze like. There weren't any items that stuck up above the walls as there were sometimes in offices like this, things that operated as landmarks. No posters on the outer walls, just uniform gray fuzzy walls in straight rows. They made him think of Dilbert.

None of the cubicles appeared to be tenanted but there was no knowing truthfully. The only sound coming from a lone worker would probably be typing, and that would be muffled by the fabric and board walls of the dividers.

Sullivan knew exactly where he was going and led them through the gray hallways without pausing. Classical music reached their ears as they approached what Tony assumed was their destination, a wall of hard wall offices on the opposite end of the cubes.

"Damn!" came a voice from inside one of the rooms. The door was open, and it was where the music was playing. There was a beep like an intercom. "Marco, get Thomas in here. I want an explanation for this mess!"

The answer was inaudible, but Tony assumed it was positive since there was no more yelling. A moment later Sullivan and Gibbs entered the room. He followed and saw Sullivan shaking hands with a man who dwarfed him, and Sullivan was by no means a small man. This guy was tall and fat, though he clearly had an amazing tailor because his suit fit him impeccably.

"Gibson, this is Jacob Steinman. He's a useful man to know. Jacob, this is Gibson Howe. He, too, is a useful man to know."

"Yes, I hear he provided Raul with some much-needed components." He gave Gibbs the once over and then glanced at Tony. His head straightened and he raised his eyebrows. Tony had resolved not to be as obvious as he'd been in Simon's office, but he couldn't help it, he edged towards Gibbs very slightly. Sullivan and Gibbs were both very alpha, considerably more so than either Simon or Hogan, but Steinman could give them both a run for their money. He also reminded Tony of his father, and that just made his expression of desire more disturbing. "You are a remarkable man, Mr. Howe."

This office was a well-used space, without the luxurious opulence of Simon's office. The desk was good quality, like the clothes, but apart from a few tasteful prints and a couple of five-minute chairs, the space was empty of unnecessary clutter. He also kept an orderly desk.

"Thank you," Gibbs said ironically. "Call me Gibson."

"Of course, and you must call me Jacob. Please, have a seat." Gibbs and Sullivan sat down. Tony found a spot against the wall near where Gibbs was sitting. Rudy and Mark clearly felt uncomfortable with that situation. There wasn't really room for them to do their door guarding routine, and Tony wasn't being cooperative. "Why don't you send those two outside?" Steinman said. "What are they here for anyway?"

Tony saw Gibbs turn towards Sullivan to see what he'd say. Sullivan shrugged. "You know how I operate, Jacob."

Steinman made a thoughtful sound as he settled back in his chair. "I do, indeed. Send them out, Doug. They're not needed in here." Sullivan nodded and Tony watched the pair file out with scarcely concealed relief. He'd grown tired of having their eyes on him all the time. When he turned back, he found Steinman's eyes on him, faintly amused and faintly predatory. He turned back to Gibbs and Sullivan smoothly. "So, Gibson, I don't suppose you have any contacts with the requisite skills to break into encrypted files?"

"I might," Gibbs said thoughtfully. "A lot would depend on how much you're willing to pay."

And negotiations commenced. Tony found it fascinating to watch three alphas dancing around each other without fighting. Steinman was a good ten years older than both Gibbs and Sullivan, and Tony got the impression he was viewing their tension with condescending amusement. He wasn't going to get involved except perhaps to keep blood off his carpet.

Rudy and Mark had left the door open, and Steinman had left the music on. The carpeted floors throughout the building deadened footsteps, so when a man entered the room, Tony was unprepared. Most would simply see a man in a suit, but Tony's eyes detected a telltale bulge under his left arm, and his right pants leg was pulled over another lump at his ankle. And he was walking towards Gibbs' unprotected and unsuspecting back. When he reached into his coat with his right hand, Tony burst into action. A quick punch sent him off balance and Tony seized him, turning to slam him face first against the wall, holding him there with a right hand against his left shoulder blade. With his left hand, he twisted the intruder's left arm behind his back. In this position, he couldn't reach either of his weapons and Tony could break his arm with a quick jerk.

The crash of the man's body hitting the wall brought Mark and Rudy inside, and both raised their guns on Tony.

"Gibson, restrain your boy!" Sullivan thundered. "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"I, too, await an explanation," Steinman said, but his tone was milder and more inquisitive.

"Who is this?" Gibbs asked.

"One of my associates, Nicholas Tate."

"Get this bastard off me!" Tate yelled.

"Tony, I think you can release him," Gibbs said, and Tony did, stepping back.

Tate jerked his clothes straight and turned around. "What the hell was that about?"

"Tony, please explain," Gibbs said mildly


	13. Chapter 13

Tony was aware of five men staring at him with various levels of hostility and anger. And then there was Gibbs, who just looked saturnine. Tony raised his chin and came to something approximating attention. "Of course, Boss. I saw a strange man approaching you from behind with at least two weapons. He didn't announce his presence, and he reached into his coat like he was reaching for the gun in the shoulder holster."

There was a brief silence, then Tate said, "I was reaching for my PDA," he snarled. "And how the hell do you know how many weapons I'm wearing?"

Tony glanced at Gibbs for permission to answer. He gave a slight nod. "They ruin the line of your suit," he said. "You need lower profile holsters."

Steinman let out a laugh. "I have often noticed that, Tate," he said. He turned to Gibbs. "What's his name again?"

"Tony Vellucci," Gibbs said.

"Bird dog, bloodhound and Rottweiler, huh?" Sullivan said thoughtfully, gazing at Tony. His expression was intent but not readable. Tony couldn't even guess what was going on behind those eyes, but he suspected that he didn't want to know.

Gibbs gave him a nod and returned to his seat. Tony resumed his relaxed pose against the wall. Sullivan waved Mark and Rudy out, but both men were looking at Tony with something akin to alarm. They'd apparently assumed that the docility he'd shown thus far was normal, and that he wasn't really dangerous without weapons.

Tate carried out his business with Steinman and left again, glaring at Tony through narrowed eyes. Tony ignored him, which had to piss him off. Throughout the rest of the meeting, Tony couldn't miss the appraising looks from Steinman and the fulminating looks from Sullivan. He simply remained in place, against the wall. Fortunately, the meeting didn't last much longer, and soon they were out in the limo again. Evening was drawing in, and Tony thought dinner sounded good. He'd just rather not eat another meal with Sullivan in attendance.

They pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, heading off that thought. The drive back to the hotel was too long anyway for Tony to wait. They were seated at a large, round table, and Sullivan managed to sit beside Tony, with Gibbs on the other side. This position tried to have an effect on Tony's appetite, but plain old DiNozzo good health asserted itself firmly over the emotional reaction.

Finally, towards ten at night, Sullivan let them out at the hotel. The four of them rode up to the eighteenth floor together and Tony remembered suddenly that there was a suite at the end of this journey, and the opportunity to sleep without being observed.

Not surprisingly, as soon as they got to the suite, they made straight for the bathroom. It had been a long drive, and Tony noticed Rudy heading through the door into the adjoining room with like speed. Poor Mark was stuck. On the other hand, Tony had to wait for Gibbs to finish, so he wasn't much better off.

"Turn that water on, Tony," Gibbs said. "After all those eyes on you, I want to clean you all over."

Tony turned the shower on and turned up the setting, but he was a bit taken aback by the fervency of the declaration. They took their turns at the toilet, then Gibbs spoke to the air. "Director, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Gibbs."

"There were half a dozen illegal acts mentioned today. Have we got enough?"

"Not nearly," Morrow said. "You know that. Besides, we want him for treason, not petty larceny."

"He won't be able to commit treason from Leavenworth," Gibbs pointed out.

Tony blinked. "What's wrong, Boss?" he asked.

"Agent Gibbs, clearly something is troubling you. Can you explain your concerns?"

"Most of it wasn't verbal, but I'm disturbed by the amount of interest Tony is generating," Gibbs said. Tony sat down. He'd been trying not to think about it. "Of the four guys we met today, only one of them showed no interest at all. And Sullivan's practically drooling."

"We might be able to use that," Morrow said, and Tony bit his lip, not altogether sure he liked that idea.

"Rape isn't treason either," Gibbs snapped, and Tony felt the color drain from his face.

"I wasn't suggesting –"

"And seduction won't put Tony in the right position to get information. This jackass doesn't tell his lovers anything. They're objects, not people."

"He's right about that," Abby said. "Sullivan isn't your usual BDSM fetish fiend. He's a psycho control freak. His first step with Tony would be intense brainwashing type stuff. Serious behavior modification."

Tony forced himself to relax and sit calmly because a fetal position was sounding appealing right now, and a DiNozzo certainly didn't curl into a ball like a pill bug when danger loomed.

"Well, do you want to pull the plug, Gibbs?"

"No," Tony said firmly before Gibbs could respond. "Like hell am I going to have put up with all this so we could back out before we get anything we can really use."

"Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked at Tony, and Tony tried to infuse confidence and determination into his expression. After a moment, Gibbs shrugged. "We'll keep going, then. How long are we in this for, Director?"

"That depends on what you find out and when," Morrow said. "But I've got someone looking into permanent housing in Alexandria." Tony stared at the wall opposite the tub. That would be long term. "Treason is big, and it might take a while for you to get far enough inside his organization to get in on something like that."

"I see," Gibbs said.

"We'll talk more when you come in on Wednesday."

"Right, director," Gibbs said. "Tony, get in the shower. I'm cleaning you all over, remember?"

Tony nodded and stripped his clothes off, tucking his earwig into the toothbrush holder before climbing into the shower. He wondered if Morrow truly understood what he was asking them to do. If they stuck with this for months, they would probably have to actually . . . it would be expected that they would play at clubs and parties. Sullivan had as good as said so. Gibbs could only get away with the no public demonstration thing for so long.

He finished up and got out, drying off and brushing his teeth before fitting the earwig back into his ear. Gibbs was quicker in the shower, and he was out before Tony knew it. "I just claimed you again, didn't I?" he asked.

Tony's brow furrowed and he looked over at him, not immediately getting the reference. Abby spoke in his ear. "Most definitely. If there were that many guys drooling over him, you want to stake your claim firmly. And it's got nothing to do with your trust of him, it's just a . . . a dominance thing. You need to express it."

"Okay, I see that."

"And if this is going to go long term, there are other marks that will need to . . . um . . . I mean, sex between guys, especially between guys like you're pretending to be is kind of . . . rough. There would be bruises."

"Bruises?" Gibbs repeated, and Tony dropped his head down. She was right. He'd seen them often enough on the boys and young men he'd arrested.

"On his hips, Gibbs, and on his legs. You also probably tie him up, so there should be marks on his wrists from that, and his lips should definitely show signs of aggressive kissing." Gibbs shook his head at the mirror, and Abby could clearly sense his reluctance because she let out an irritated sigh. "Man up, guys. You've got to treat this like any other op where you're pretending to have sex with another agent. If you were in there with a woman, you'd be faking sex like crazy to keep the illusion up."

"I do not leave bruises on women when I have sex," Gibbs said in a throttled voice.

"Well, the rules for sex between men are different, Gibbs, especially guys like Howe and Vellucci. You grab him, you force him . . . I mean, you don't really force him, but you sort of do, and you both get off on that."

"Abby . . ." Gibbs said.

"You don't have to understand it, Gibbs, you just have to do it," Abby said. "It will make Tony safer if you're obviously claiming him."

Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "DiNozzo," he said.

Tony stood up straight and turned around to lean his butt against the counter. "Yeah, Boss?"

Gibbs wasn't looking at him, he was looking at the wall beyond him. "After this is over, we never speak of this again."

Tony nodded. "Right there with you, Boss."

"And we shoot anyone who tries."

"Got it."

"Does that include me?" Abby asked.

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Okay," Abby replied in a small voice. A moment later, she cleared her throat. "Now, do you need coaching?"

Gibbs seemed beyond speech, and Tony sighed. "Abby, could you . . . just not. I know how this works. As Morrow pointed out, I worked vice." He shrugged. "It's no big deal, anyway. It's just an act. I mean, it's not like it's Kate in here. Now that would be hard." He grinned at Gibbs. That was a partial repayment for all the gibes she'd thrown at him while he was undercover and unable to respond. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"You ready?" Gibbs asked.

"Are you?" Tony pulled off his pajama pants and threw them on the counter.

Gibbs stared at him for a moment before doing the same. "Not in the least. Let's get it over with."

Instructing Gibbs on the finer points of gay sex passed the next hour or so in a moderately entertaining if somewhat disturbing fashion. Finally, Tony walked over and grabbed the wrist restraints. He put them on and picked up the straps that were supposed to attach them to the bed.

"What are you doing, DiNozzo?"

"We've been having sex in the bathroom for the last few days, and you're feeling dominant. They're padded, so they don't cut, but they do tend to leave marks."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Attach them to the bedposts and pull on them," Tony replied. Gibbs raised his eyebrows. Tony dug in the bag. "Here, why don't you go squeeze some of this lube into the toilet so it looks like we used it?"

Gibbs blinked at him for a moment, then walked into the bathroom. Tony hooked the straps to the bedposts then hooked the cuffs to the straps and started pulling on them hard. He stopped a few moments after it began to hurt and reached to unhook the cuff. His right hand stopped about a foot short of his left and he stared in consternation. He'd pulled the straps tight enough that he couldn't reach one hand all the way to the other. Hooking the cuffs to the straps one-handed had been easy enough, but unhooking them was nowhere near so simple.

"Um . . . Boss!" he called. Gibbs didn't emerge from the bathroom, and Tony had a feeling he was finishing his getting ready for bed routine. No doubt brushing his teeth to get the DiNozzo flavor out of his mouth. "Boss!" Tony called again.

"Gibbs, I think Tony has a problem," Abby said helpfully. Gibbs dashed from the bathroom and stopped at the foot of the bed. "Um . . . maybe I should have said a little problem," Abby added, sounding embarrassed.

Tony looked up at his boss who was glaring down at him balefully. The door opened and Mark stuck his head in. Gibbs looked over. "Get out!" he growled and Mark, having gotten an eyeful of naked 'Vellucci' tied to the bed, got out and shut the door hastily. Gibbs had already put his pajama pants back on, so he hadn't been exposed. Tony buried his face in the pillow and started laughing with mild hysteria. "Tony, what's the problem?" Gibbs demanded in a low voice.

Tony looked up, mastering his laughter with an effort. "I . . . um . . ." He demonstrated his problem and Gibbs let out an irritated grunt and made short work of the straps. When Tony sat up, he gave him a smack to the back of the head. "Ow!" Tony exclaimed. "What was that for?"

Gibbs didn't answer, he just went back into the bathroom.

* * *

Kate walked into Abby's lab. Director Morrow had asked her to persuade Abby, who hadn't left the building since Gibbs and Tony had gone under, to go home and get some rest. The sheer number of empty Caf-Pows and cans of Red Bull in the room suggested that she had been making a definite effort to stay awake.

"Kate, hi," Abby said, covering the mike. "You missed the good part, while Tony and Gibbs were pretending to have sex."

Kate rolled her eyes. She was just as glad to have missed seeing that. Tony was so irritating, to make a comment like that when she couldn't respond. She'd have to find a way to get him back for it later. She looked up at the video on Abby's big screen. Gibbs was sitting beside Tony, doing something to his wrist. "Is he tying him up?" she asked incredulously.

"No, he's releasing him," Abby said.

"You mean he already tied him up?" Kate was appalled.

"No, Tony tied himself up, but he screwed up and wound up with his hands too far apart for him to untie himself."

"Why would Tony tie himself up?" Kate asked.

"For the same reason they faked the sex," Abby said. "To get bruises in the right places."

Kate gazed at the screen pensively. "After what Gibbs said today, I think we should arrest Sullivan for what we've got and hope we find more evidence when we search his place." She squinted up at her partner as Gibbs moved away, realized that he was naked and averted her eyes hastily. "It's too dangerous for Tony."

"If we arrested him without sufficient evidence to put him away for a really long time, it wouldn't be any less dangerous for Tony," Abby said.

"How so?" Kate demanded.

Abby didn't answer the question directly. "If we arrest him, he's going to find out who Gibbs and Tony really are. It's inevitable. For one thing, they'll probably get the job of interrogating him. So, he's charged with treason, he loses everything, he goes to prison for life, that's the end of it."

"I guess," Kate said, not sure where this was leading.

"Well, if he goes to prison for a couple of years, he still loses everything, but he comes out wanting revenge while he's still young enough to try and get it, and he still knows who Tony really is."

"He wouldn't be so stupid as to go after Tony at that point. He'd be the obvious suspect."

Abby shook her head. "You don't understand this kind of mindset. Prison is the ultimate loss of control, and Tony, a man he already wants to dominate, will have put him there. He'll come out just as obsessed with Tony as he is now, only angry on top of it. It wouldn't be pretty."

"Now, give me a kiss," Tony said on the audio. "Make it really aggressive. My lips should be swollen afterwards."

Kate turned her back. "This is just wrong." She tried, but she couldn't block the conversation out.

"Wouldn't I already have done that before?" Gibbs asked. "Doesn't the fact that I haven't mean I'm not likely to?"

"Boss, you've presented as a really jealous guy, and there were five different guys ogling me today. Believe me, it's not my favorite thing, either, but you need to just do it. At least we've both brushed our teeth, so it won't taste foul."

"It's just entirely wrong," Kate said in the silence that followed that remark.

"Actually I think it's kind of hot," Abby said.

Kate turned and stared at her. "Okay, the director told me to come make you go home, and it's time."

"I'm not going anywhere till Tony and Gibbs are out of harm's way."

"You heard the director, Abby," Kate said. "He's looking into putting them in an apartment. You can't stay here for weeks."

"I'm not going –"

Kate grabbed the spare headset and got it situated. "Gibbs, can you hear me?" she said.

"Yeah, Kate. What?"

"Abby is refusing to go home and get some rest. She hasn't been home yet."

There was a brief moment of silence during which Abby glared at Kate, looking betrayed. "Abbs, is that true?"

"I've slept," Abby said defensively.

"On the floor of her office," Kate put in.

"Abby, go home," Gibbs ordered. "You'll work better for some decent sleep."

"All right, Gibbs."

"Kate, you go home, too."

"I was going to, Gibbs," she said. "Good night. Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Kate; good night Abby; good night, John boy."

Kate saw the smack Gibbs gave Tony, and the mock glare Tony returned for it. After taking off the headset, she grabbed Abby and propelled her into her office. "Get your bag, I'm seeing you to your car."

Once they were in the elevator, Abby turned to Kate. "I just hate not being able to check up on them at all."

"They're going to bed, Abby. Nothing's going to happen while they're in bed."

"You never know. One of the guys peeked in just before you showed up, and they're not supposed to go in at all unless Tony's alone."

"I don't believe Gibbs is going along with this insanity," Kate said, shaking her head. The elevator doors opened and they crossed the bullpen which felt empty and quiet without Tony cracking jokes at his desk. "He usually freaks out over anything that even suggests danger to Tony, and now he's courting it."

"He's the one trying to end it," Abby pointed out. "Tony's the one who wants to keep going."

"Tony believes he's invincible."

"He's a guy. All guys believe they're invincible."

Kate had to acknowledge that for truth. Even Gibbs seemed to, and he was old enough to know better. "Just think positive. We know where they both are, they're together. It's fine."

"It's fine now, but what about four hours from now? Or six? If I'm not there to look in, I won't know, and –" Abby started to turn back, but Kate grabbed her arm.

"Maybe I should take you to my place and sit on you," she said, dragging Abby onwards.

"No, I'll go home and sleep."

Kate nodded and watched Abby get into her hearse and drive off. Then she went to her own car and hoped that when she got home she'd be able to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Sunday morning passed without a peep from Sullivan.  Gibbs watched DiNozzo do his work out and did his own.  Gibbs went out and grabbed the paper and Tony turned on the TV.  Inevitably, he watched two movies before noon.

“I am going stir crazy, Boss,” he said after the second movie.  “And I need some stuff.  Why don’t we go get some lunch and then go shopping?”

“What kind of stuff?” Gibbs asked.

“I didn’t bring all that much clothing, Gibbs,” Tony said.

“You’ve got enough clothing.”

“I need a couple more shirts.  Not that I seem to wear them for long, but I can’t keep wearing the same ones.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it will reflect poorly on you, like you keep me short of spending money, you know?”

“I am not taking you shopping,” Gibbs declared firmly.

Tony stared at him.  “Boss,” he said quietly.  “I need some stuff.”  Gibbs blinked at him dourly.  “I suppose I could just send for some of my things.”

“Take him shopping, Gibbs,” Morrow said.  “It’s in character.  For one thing, you just got a good payday.”

Gibbs felt his jaw go slack.  DiNozzo’s eyes lit up.  “Great!  And remember, Boss, you dote on me, and you’re jealous, and you want to show off, but not with PDAs, so that means expensive clothes.”

“You don’t get to keep any of it, DiNozzo,” Morrow said.

“I do if I pay for it, sir,” DiNozzo replied.  “Not that I’ll want to keep some of the more . . .”

“Outré?” Morrow suggested.

“Yeah, the more outré gear, but –”

“That’s enough talking over the wire,” Gibbs snapped irritably.

“Yes Boss,” Tony shot back, eyes wide.

“Certainly, Agent Gibbs,” Morrow replied, sounding amused.  Gibbs didn’t care.  DiNozzo could talk a blue streak once he got going, and Morrow didn’t need to encourage it.

“All right, let’s get going,” Gibbs said, heading out into the main room of the suite.  “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be done.”

“Leave?” Rudy asked.  “Where are you going?”

“Shopping,” Gibbs said sourly.  “Vellucci needs some stuff.”

“Don’t be like that, Boss,” Tony said, walking up and giving him a puppy dog look that he judged should make Howe’s heart melt.

“You know I hate shopping, boy,” Gibbs said, cupping DiNozzo’s cheek.

“I could go by myself,” DiNozzo suggested coyly.  “It’s not like I’d be alone.  I’d have my two shadows with me, and I could ask them how things look.”

“Let’s go, Vellucci,” Gibbs said, holding back most of his irritation so the tone would be right.  He couldn’t pretend to like shopping, so he’d have to be the reluctant partner.  Lunch was the only truly bearable part of the afternoon.  When they left the restaurant, Tony gave the orders for their next destination.

They walked into a store with manikins dressed in clothes a great deal more casual and outrageous than Tony’s usual gear.  The sales staff welcomed them warmly and, once they thought they had the lay of the land, they got Gibbs seated comfortably and brought him a cup of coffee that was halfway decent.  Tony appropriated a young woman and started gathering clothing.  Rudy and Mark stood nearby, looking conspicuously like bodyguards.

Tony disappeared for a few minutes and then came back wearing . . . clothes.  “What do you think, Boss?” he asked, striking a pose.  Nothing about him was remotely effeminate, but something just screamed gay.  Gibbs wasn’t sure how he managed it, and he had no idea how Tony looked in those clothes.  When he didn’t answer right away, Tony turned to the young woman who was helping him.  “Angela, what do you think?”

“The style suits you, but I think we can find something to bring out your eyes more.”  She hurried off and Tony turned a look on Gibbs, almost demanding participation.  Tony almost never challenged him like that, and Gibbs straightened up.  Tony winked at him and went back into the dressing room.  He came out again a moment later, and Gibbs concentrated on what he was actually wearing.  The pants were a pair of grayish jeans that were faded across the fronts and backs of the thighs.  The shirt was solid green, a shimmery fabric, and DiNozzo had the middle buttons done, but the bottom two were undone, as were the top three.  Quite frankly, Gibbs didn’t like the look.  It was unkempt and messy, and he still had enough marine in him to prefer neatness.  Still, he didn’t know what was in and what was out.  One of the salesgirls seemed to be eyeing DiNozzo appreciatively, though that could just be his good looks.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly.

Tony’s lips pursed and he went back into the dressing room.  A few moments later, the salesgirl went in with a bundle of fabric in her arms.  She was in there for several minutes, and Gibbs began to wonder if the jealous Mr. Howe would be getting antsy.  Then the girl emerged.  The look she shot him was mischievous rather than nervous or guilty, so he relaxed against the chair.  She returned with more garments and delivered them, coming back out to stand near the door.

Tony came out, and there was a subtle difference to his carriage.  The clothing was weird by Gibbs’ standards, but who knew what DiNozzo wore on his days off?  Thus far, Vellucci seemed to dress like DiNozzo for the most part.  Gibbs blinked at him.  The shirt fit like a second skin and so did the pants, and the colors were a little . . . unexpected.  He shrugged uncertainly.  DiNozzo frowned and turned away again, but then Gibbs caught a glimpse of Mark and Rudy staring with interest at Tony’s rear view.   He sat forward.  “Vellucci?” he called.  Tony turned.  “No.”

Tony stopped and turned halfway around, looking over his shoulder.  “Not what?  Not the shirt?  Not the pants?  Not the color?”

Gibbs looked at the pants.  “If you really think I want to see your butt encased in that shade of green –”

“It’s teal,” Tony pointed out.

“Whatever.  Something else, please.”

Tony made a face that looked remarkably like a pout, then vanished into the dressing room.  While he was gone, Gibbs contemplated his situation.  It was remarkably similar to clothes shopping with his wives.  It was a boring process, watching her go into the dressing room with loads of clothing while he sat outside, waiting for her to come out wearing something.  He’d known on those occasions what he thought looked good, but he hadn’t always known what the style was.  This was pretty much the same.  He just had to figure out how to judge DiNozzo not from the perspective of a man who had never looked at other men to rate their physical appeal, but as a man who found DiNozzo in particular physically attractive.

When DiNozzo emerged again, Gibbs tilted his head.  His instinct on looking at a man was threat assessment.  DiNozzo was younger, reasonably fit and larger, but Gibbs knew his strengths and weaknesses to a tee.  Forcing his mind away from threat assessment, he gazed at the body before him, trying to keep his mind on an objective consideration of the aesthetic form.

He looked up when he realized DiNozzo was coming over to him, a concerned look on his face, tags rustling as he moved.  “You okay, Gibson?”

“Fine,” he said.  He looked at Tony’s clothes.  “The pants are okay, but I don’t like the shirt.  Hurry it up, would you?”

Tony nodded and went back into the dressing room.  He came back out wearing a pair of jeans that fit pretty normally and a button front shirt.  Gibbs looked him over and then turned to the girl who was helping.  “Can you find him a size smaller in the pants?”

She gave him a startled look, but hurried off on the task.  DiNozzo blinked at him, then grinned blindingly.  He went back into the dressing room and a few minutes later came out, having crammed himself into the jeans.  These, too, fit like a second skin, but Gibbs reminded himself that he was supposed to want to show DiNozzo’s body off.  He was proud of the young, fit man he’d caught.  They looked less peculiar, anyway, than the green ones had.  “Definitely,” he said.  They continued with the process, and Gibbs did his best to participate.  It was challenging, but he could tell DiNozzo was enjoying himself.

Finally, he seemed to have had enough.  They went to dinner and returned to the hotel.  Gibbs made a couple of phone calls just to check in, but there was nothing to report on either end.  No new information had been discovered to make their jobs easier, and they hadn’t seen Sullivan all day.

He sat down in the sitting room of the suite with the newspaper, and Tony disappeared into the bedroom for a few minutes, then returned wearing only his pants and his collar.  Gibbs glanced up and looked away.  Long years of experience kept his face from showing how appalled he was by the bruises DiNozzo was collecting.  It was disturbing to know that he’d deliberately placed some of them himself.  DiNozzo fetched Gibbs a glass of bourbon just the way he liked it, then settled down to kneel beside Gibbs’ legs.  Gibbs leaned forward and ruffled his hair, then handed him the remote.

Tony continued to kneel by Gibbs’ legs while he surfed for something to watch.  Since Gibbs hadn’t released him, he was pretty much stuck on his knees.  AMC was showing a marathon of the Thin Man movies, so he knew he was set for the night.  When he noticed that Gibbs’ drink was gone, he took it to the bar.  “Water, please, boy,” Gibbs said, so Tony pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.  As he returned to the sofa, Gibbs tossed a pillow on the floor.  “You may sit,” he said, with a mischievous look at Tony’s face.  Tony settled down cross legged on the pillow and leaned against the sofa beside Gibbs’ legs.  A thought occurred to him, and he began untying Gibbs’ shoes.  Gibbs paid no attention, though Tony suspected he had to be wondering what was coming.  Tony slipped his boss’s shoes off and then his socks, putting them neatly to one side.  Gibbs’s inherent neatness had already made itself obvious, and untidiness from him would look out of character.  Then he began to massage Gibbs’ feet while he watched the movie.  Gibbs let out an unexpected sound of pleasure, and Tony was mildly relieved.  Not everyone likes to be massaged, and it would have been very bad for him not to know it if Gibbs had issues.

When he’d done a thorough massage on each foot, Gibbs stroked his head and then rose.  “Come, boy,” he said, and they left the front room of the suite.  Tony noticed Rudy shaking his head as they went.  Before the door was completely closed, Gibbs seized Tony in a close embrace and bit him on the shoulder.  Tony managed not to go rigid with surprise, and a moment later, Gibbs slammed the door shut and stepped back, grinning slightly.

“Whoa,” Tony said under his breath.  “For a second there, I thought you were losing it.”

“I’m not that crazy, Tony,” Gibbs said.  “Now, go get undressed.  We’d better look like we’re doing what we just implied we’re doing.”

Tony shrugged and walked over to dump his pants and shorts into the waiting laundry bag.  For a man who’d had to be bullied into this the previous night, he seemed unexpectedly eager.  “So, how are we going to do this?” he asked.

“Lie down on your stomach on the bed,” Gibbs said, and Tony did.  Gibbs got up next to him and started rubbing his back.  The stress of the last week had knotted him up but good, and Gibbs hit the right spot almost instantly.  He let out a heartfelt groan as some of the tension dissipated.

“Oh, that’s good, Boss,” he murmured after a moment.

“I’m glad you like it,” Gibbs said dryly.

After a few more groans expressive of the relief of his relaxing muscles, Tony drifted off to sleep and didn’t wake until the phone rang the next morning.  Gibbs reached over and answered it, and Tony realized that he had wrapped himself around Gibbs again.  Many of his girlfriends had complained that sleeping with him was like being smothered by a bear, but he really hadn’t expected to automatically snuggle up to Gibbs in his sleep.

“Yeah?” Gibbs said.  Tony started to move away, but Gibbs held on.  “It’s five in the morning.  Okay, I . . . yes, we can do that.  What?  No, why –”  He let out a sharp, angry breath.  “Right.”  The word was almost bitten off.  “This is beginning to piss me off, Doug.  I haven’t done anything to merit this level of safeguard.”  Tony blinked at the window across the room.  He had a feeling he knew what the disagreement was about.  “Fine, I’ll go along with it today, but we’re going to have to talk about this later.”  Tony grimaced.  If it was him they were talking about it looked like he might have a pretty boring day.  “By eight?  That’s going to cut it close.”  Gibbs sighed.  “Yeah, see you tonight.”  He reached over and hung up, then lay on his back for a moment, staring at the ceiling.  “I’ve got another assignment that I can’t take you along on.”

“I guessed,” Tony said.  “Boss, I’ve got to . . .”  He gestured sort of vaguely.

Gibbs let go and rolled out of the bed.  Tony shoved to the other edge and hurried to the bathroom.  Gibbs followed him in and turned on the shower.  “You first, DiNozzo,” he said in a low voice.  “I don’t want them catching you like they did on Friday.”

“Where do you have to be by eight?” Tony asked.

“Norfolk.”

Tony shook his head.  “Boss, you’ve got to get on the road ten minutes ago.  I’ll be fine.  Just go.”

“You weren’t fine last time.”

Tony shook his head.  “I won’t be fine if you don’t do what he says, right?  So get a move on.”

“Get in the shower, DiNozzo,” Gibbs ordered.  “Now.”

Tony tucked his earwig away and did as he was told.  The sooner he got clean the sooner Gibbs would and the sooner he’d be on his way.  He showered as fast as he could and got out.  Gibbs’ obvious alarm wasn’t doing wonders for his own sense of security.  It had occurred to him as he scrubbed his hair that Sullivan might be getting rid of Gibbs so he could have another go at him.  Kate would probably call him self-absorbed if she knew what he was thinking.

After drying out his ear and putting the earwig back in, he dried his hair, brushed his teeth and generally stayed busy in the bathroom till Gibbs got out.  He left the water running and took Tony by the arm.  “Now, I want you to be careful today.  I have a feeling he’s going to make some kind of a move in your direction, I just don’t know what.”

“I’m not that worried,” Tony said, though a flutter of unease in his gut belied the statement.  “So long as my back up keeps track of me.”

“Who’s on DiNozzo today, Director?” Gibbs asked.

“Todd and McGee,” Morrow replied.

Tony nodded, biting his lip.  He wasn’t sure he wanted Kate and McGee to see any of what might happen if Sullivan showed up again, but on the other hand, he was pretty sure that Kate would keep better track of where he was.  “DiNozzo, spend most of your day in the main room of the suite.  We don’t want them to get used to coming in here.”

Tony nodded again.  He pulled on fresh clothes and walked with Gibbs out to the front room.  Gibbs gave his left butt cheek a squeeze and left.  Tony started back towards the bedroom, just to grab the laundry bag, but he found Mark heading in there already.  He followed, wondering what the hell was up, and he watched in disbelief as the man unplugged the phone from beside the bed and picked up Tony’s cell phone, unplugging it from the charger.  “What are you doing?” he asked as he watched Mark carry both phones into the adjoining room.

“Keeping things so that we know who you’re calling,” Rudy replied.  “Now settle down and watch TV like a good boy.”

The remark got Tony’s hackles up, and he heard Kate in his ear.  “Keep calm, Tony.  He’s trying to rile you.”  Like he needed her to tell him that.  Her no doubt well-meaning comment stoked the fire of his irritation, making his mood worse.

Clenching his teeth so as not to scowl, he went back into the bedroom and got the laundry bag.  “Maybe you’d like to call for laundry service?” he suggested brightly.

Rudy shrugged.  “Go ahead and make the call,” he said, gesturing to the phone on the desk.

Tony thought seriously about smashing his head, but just walked over and made his call.  A few moments later a guy came up to fetch his laundry and he sat down, transaction completed.  Now what?  He’d neaten up the bedroom, but Gibbs had told him specifically not to stay in there.  He flipped on the TV, but even he could only watch television for so long.  He wasn’t going to do a work out today because then he’d sweat, and if he got sweaty, he’d have to shower, and that, too, was off limits.  He stood up and went to get his wallet – or rather, Tony Vellucci’s wallet, then headed towards the door.

Rudy got up and grabbed him by the arm.  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Tony, what are you up to?” Kate said in his ear.

Tony looked down at the hand on his arm like it offended him, but Rudy just tightened his grip.  Tony looked into the guard’s face.  “You’re touching me,” he said.  “You know my instructions, and you know my capabilities.  Do you want me to take you down?”

“As if you could,” Rudy muttered, but he released Tony’s arm anyway.  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.  Mark had walked around to lean casually against the door, so he wasn’t going anywhere without their cooperation.

“I had intended to go down to the gift shop and pick up a couple of puzzle books.  I’m not used to sitting around all day, and it’s getting boring.”

“Boring is good,” Rudy said.  “But I don’t see a problem with puzzle books.  You got any cash?”

“A little,” Tony said.  “Why?”

“Give it to Mark.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to get the books for you,” Rudy said patiently, as if speaking to a dimwit.  “Hand it over, or you won’t get anything.”

Tony controlled his urges to smash both these guys aside and make a run for it.  Gibson had left Vellucci here with the clear intent that he remain here.  He handed over the cash.  “I’ll expect the receipt and change,” Tony said, and Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“Now, go sit in your chair and stay there till he comes back,” Rudy said.

Tony looked back and forth between them and went to sit down.  Mark drew back the privacy bolt and left the room.  Anger knotted in his stomach, and he realized abruptly that he hadn’t eaten anything yet.  He started to get up, but Rudy was sitting across from him and looked up.

“What did I tell you?” Rudy demanded.

“I haven’t ordered breakfast yet,” Tony said.  “And the phone is further from the door than the chair is.”

“Whatever.  Just stay away from the door.”

Tony walked over and made his call, glancing down at the red handprint on his right arm.  Gibbs was going to be thrilled.

“Wallace said you had a death wish,” Kate said.  “Why can’t you just behave yourself?”

“Because it’s not in character,” Abby replied from her lab.  “Vellucci is a boundary tester.  Think about it, he basically made Vellucci himself, only more so.”

“Great,” Kate muttered.

“So,” Tony said as he returned to his chair.  “How long have you worked for Mr. Sullivan?”

“Not your business,” Rudy said.

“It’s just a question.  A harmless way to pass the time.”

“I am not here to chat with you, Vellucci,” Rudy said, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing.  “I am here to make certain that you stay within Mr. Sullivan’s reach at all times.  I could do that much more simply by cuffing you to the bed, so be glad I haven’t done that and quit annoying me.”

“Jeez,” Tony said, mildly alarmed by that notion.

“I know what you’re doing,” Rudy said, and Tony raised his eyebrows.  “Your master asked you to find out what you can about Mr. Sullivan from us, and you’re expecting your cheeky behavior to charm it out of me.  It won’t work, not on me and not on Mark.”

Tony sighed and leaned back in the chair.  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“If he annoys me enough, I can,” Rudy said.  “And I will chain you to the bed if you get too out of hand.”

“Gibson wouldn’t like that.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Gibson isn’t in charge here.”

“Beg to differ,” Tony said.

Rudy just shook his head and didn’t respond.

Tony looked away.  They had to get something on Sullivan soon, or his temper would fray beyond keeping.  He turned on the TV again and surfed through till he found an ancient episode of _Let’s Make a Deal_.  Mark came back, finally, and Tony turned the station to a pure music channel and shifted to the desk to do his puzzles.  Ordinarily, he viewed crossword puzzles as a community activity, but Rudy and Mark really weren’t his community.  There was a knock at the door and Mark went to get it.  Amber Perry brought his tray in and he flirted automatically with her, but it wasn’t his best effort.

He ate sort of mechanically and kept doing puzzles.  Kate gave him periodic reports on Gibbs’ doings, so he knew that things were going fine with him.  He was feeling restless and antsy, but he had nothing to do, and talking would probably get him strapped to the bed.  Mark went into the other room, presumably for a nap.   Tony didn’t even have that option.  He tried pacing, but eventually Rudy lost patience.

“If you don’t sit down I will cuff you to the chair,” Rudy snarled.

Tony’s patience snapped.  “Excuse me, this is Gibson’s suite, and mine.  You’re just here to make sure your boss can get his hands on me at a moment’s notice, not to order me around and act like I’m yours.”  And Tony had a sudden epiphany.  He’d been playing the day all wrong.

“I’m not acting like you’re mine,” Rudy growled.  “If I were, you’d be on the floor, groveling.”

“Tony, maybe you should tone it down,” Kate said.

Tony sniffed derisively.  “I don’t think you have what it takes to be a sub, let alone a dom,” he said, walking towards him.  “I don’t even think you have what it takes to be a genuine thug.”  He stopped standing over Rudy where he sat.  “You’re just a grunt.  A minion, without pedigree.”

“Tony!” Kate exclaimed.

“Back off, Vellucci,” Rudy said.

Tony glared down at him, but he didn’t give any ground.  “And I don’t care who your boss is, if you cuff or chain or tie me to anything, you’ll have to answer to mine, because that involves touching.”

Rudy surged upright so that they were practically nose to nose.  “You didn’t fight me when I grabbed you earlier.”

“You let go,” Tony pointed out.

“What if I hadn’t?”

“Try it now,” Tony dared him.

Rudy grabbed for Tony’s wrists, only Tony wasn’t there anymore.  He spun sideways and caught Rudy off balance, throwing him to the floor.  He ignored the gabbling in his earwig, though he ardently wished it would stop.  Rudy heaved himself off the floor and came at Tony again.  Tony simply skipped backwards out of reach and shook his head.  “Mark!” Rudy called, glowering at Tony.

“Tony, you really need to back down,” Kate said anxiously.  “Those guys are dangerous.”

“He can’t back down now,” Abby said.  “He’s committed.  He backs down now and Gibson loses face.”  Abby’s comment convinced him he’d made the right play.

Mark emerged from the bedroom in his pants and undershirt, looking tousled and irritable.  Tony grinned at him.  “Are you coming?  Rudy’s decided he wants to teach me a lesson.”

Mark rolled his eyes.  “Rudy, he’s baiting you,” Mark said.  “He’s been baiting you since this started.”  Apart from questions about crossword clues, that was the most Tony had heard Mark say.

“He’s right, you know,” Tony said, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms.  As he’d expected, the apparent relaxation lured Rudy into lunging forward.  Tony caught him in the stomach with a fist and he stumbled backwards to land on his butt on the floor.  Tony looked over at Mark.  “If you note, I’m not trying to get away, I’m not trying to contact anyone, I’m just standing here.”

“Minding your own business?” Mark said in a humorous tone.

“Oh, no, minding Gibson’s business, because when you treat me like crap you’re showing him disrespect, and I can’t let that stand.”

Rudy got to his feet.  Tony stood ready, waiting for him.  “Let him be,” Mark said.  “He’s not hurting anything.”

Tony grinned at Rudy, but the other man just turned away and went to sit down with his book, casting angry glances in Tony’s direction every so often.  Mark went back into the other room, but apparently only to get cleaned up because he came back a few minutes later, hair slicked down and his shirt back on.  He settled down and started doing his puzzles.

Tony walked over and picked up the remote.  He was done being quiet, and he was done worrying about what he was and wasn’t allowed to do.  He turned on the TV and found some nice peppy music.  He went into the bedroom and changed into a tank top and sweats, came back out into the living room and turned the volume up high, watching his companions to see when they winced.  He cranked it a little higher, then began an intense aerobic workout.  He paused a couple of times to have a drink and caught Rudy watching him.  Great.  At least it wasn’t the guy who’d tucked his privates into those pants.

Kate had given up on trying to give him wise counsel, but she told him around four that Gibbs had finished and was on his way back.  Rush hour, of course, so he’d be a while.  About ten minutes later, Rudy’s phone rang.  Tony went into the bedroom to have a cat bath and get dressed.  Three more hours to kill, and that was if traffic was good.  He’d only just wet a washcloth when Rudy came into the bathroom.  “Would you mind?” Tony said.  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Mr. Sullivan has sent for you.  Get dressed.”

Tony blinked at him.  “Why?”

Rudy shrugged.  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

“What if I say I won’t go?”

“Then we drug you.”  Rudy grinned.  “I’d like that.”

Tony had a vivid image of hands touching him while he was unconscious and controlled a shiver.  “Give me a second and I’ll get dressed.”

“Mark is laying something out for you.”

“I can’t wear anything that –”

“Don’t worry, it’s yours.  We’ll be in the front room.  No more than five minutes.”

With Sullivan’s order behind them, he was reasonably sure that Rudy meant it.  He checked that they had left the bedroom and turned up the water in the sink.  “Kate?  Any reason you can think of behind this?”

“None.  I haven’t heard anything.”

“Okay.  Keep the advice to a minimum, would you?  It’s distracting.”

“Right,” Kate said.  “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Yes, well, that’s what worries me.”

Tony walked out into the bedroom and found a pleasant surprise waiting for him.  Mark had put out a pair of loose black slacks with a green tailored shirt.  He hadn’t specified a belt or shoes, so Tony of course grabbed the belt with the wire.  Since he’d never yet gotten to wear his shoes for any length of time, he selected thin socks and the black loafers.  The final touch was his collar, to remind all and sundry that he belonged to Gibbs.  Now he had to decide how to play this little scene.  He knew there was no valid reason for Sullivan to be calling him in, but Tony Vellucci wouldn’t.  Furthermore, he’d just given quite a performance on the subject of not obeying orders given by people other than Gibbs.

Mark came into the room with the phone and plugged it in, and actually put his cell phone on its charger.  Tony turned to leave the room but found that Rudy had come in behind him.  He gave Tony his leather jacket and Tony shrugged it on.  Then he dangled the cuffs in front of Tony, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere, Vellucci, are you?” Mark asked, coming up beside him.  “Not if you care about Mr. Howe’s reputation.”

Tony swallowed, reminding himself that Vellucci couldn’t know that Gibbs’ mission had been successful.  “No, I’m not,” Tony replied.

“Mr. Sullivan gave orders that he be duly restrained,” Rudy protested.

“There’s nothing undue about him riding in the back of the car with his hands free, Rudy.  Let’s just get going.”

Rudy pocketed the cuffs and they went down to the car.  Kate was talking to him in the earpiece, giving him a sound to make for the various exits to the garage, and she and McGee were waiting outside the one Mark had used last time.  He used that one again, and Tony cleared his throat.

“Was that the north entrance throat clearing or the south entrance cough?” McGee asked, and Tony had to struggle not to give an outward sign of his irritation.  They’d see him in a minute anyway.

There was no big delay this time, so they reached the club in twenty minutes.  Since Gibbs couldn’t possibly be there any earlier than seven unless he used one of his famous shortcuts, Tony was now going to be with Sullivan, solo, for two hours.  He just hoped they avoided the room that killed transmissions.

As they had the other two times, they brought him in through the service entrance.  Sullivan met them at the top of the elevator.  “Why isn’t he cuffed?”

“He agreed to come quietly,” Mark said.

Sullivan raised an eyebrow, and Tony felt constrained to add, “Out of respect for Gibson’s agreement with you.”

Sullivan studied him for a moment, then said, “Put him in the chair and prepare him.”

That sounded vaguely ominous.  “What does that mean?”

“And silence him,” Sullivan added, turning to walk away.

Tony hadn’t agreed to do more than show up without making a fuss.  When Mark and Rudy grabbed for his arms, he fought back.  Sullivan shouted and another guy came running up.  It took all three of them to get him into a chair that sat in the middle of a small room.  The chair faced a large mirrored panel that was obviously one-way glass.  From Gibbs’ description, this would be the room they’d exhibited him in on Thursday.  They got him out of his shirt and then immobilized him the way they had on Thursday, his hands cuffed behind him and somehow attached to the chair, which was attached to the floor.  He sat back, breathing hard and sweating, because this room seemed to be unusually warm.  Rudy, Mark and the unnamed bully were all sweating profusely, too.

When Mark and Rudy went down on their knees to remove his socks and shoes, the unnamed man forced the bit gag between his teeth and buckled it behind his head.  Tony fought and glowered, but he could not get away at this point.  And he hadn’t heard Kate since they’d entered this room, so it must be part of the dead zone.

When the man behind him moved away, Tony looked around the room and found Sullivan watching as if entranced.  His eyes were huge and he was clearly very turned on.  Tony gulped, not sure what to expect.  Sullivan turned on his heel and walked out of the room.  The unknown man returned and fitted a blindfold over his eyes, and Tony wondered if he was going to be presented to Gibbs again.  Two hours was a long time to be stuck tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded.  It hadn’t been more than twenty or thirty minutes the last time, at least that was his estimate, and he hadn’t been gagged for most of that time.

 The men moved away and the door shut.  Tony couldn’t be sure if they were still in the room or not, but from the lack of any sound, he guessed not.  Neither Rudy nor Mark struck him as the sort of man who could remain completely still, though he didn’t know about the other guy.  What the hell was going on?


	15. Chapter 15

Tony sat in the stifling room, fully restrained, bit-gagged and blindfolded.  What was this for?  Had Gibbs misunderstood some portion of his assignment, or was Sullivan just playing with them?  Tony felt around the cuffs, trying to see if he could detach himself from the chair, but it wasn’t going to budge.  If he struggled, he would only hurt himself.

A good ten or fifteen minutes after he’d been left alone, the door opened.  “In here?” asked a voice that was vaguely familiar to him.  He couldn’t place it, but he knew he’d heard it before.

“No, sir, the next door,” Sullivan said hurriedly.  “We can look from –”  The door shut on his words, and Tony realized that he was being displayed for one of Sullivan’s friends.  Shoving his emotional freak out at that thought into a box for later, Tony fought to consider the implications of that brief incident.  That sir . . . was he a higher ranking officer or was there someone else that Sullivan respected enough to call sir?  Regardless, if Tony knew the man’s voice, there was a chance the man would know him on sight.  Maybe the gag and blindfold were a blessing.  They had to hide or distort enough of his face to make recognition difficult.

Time passed with no measure.  Tony couldn’t tell what was going on around him, all he knew was that no one came into the room for a long time.  Kate had to be getting antsy out in the car with no contact from him.  He wasn’t sure what he hoped at this instant.  He didn’t want the op ended too soon, but he didn’t particularly enjoy feeling like a cut of meat under a shop display.

Finally, after what had to be more than an hour of the sweltering room, the door opened again, letting in a breath of cool air that chilled him slightly.  By this time, Tony had cramps in his shoulders from the unnatural position he had been forced to sit in, and his butt had largely gone to sleep.  He wondered what was in store for him now.  He didn’t think enough time had passed for Gibbs to have arrived.

Someone walked around behind him and unhooked him from the chair, leaving his hands cuffed behind him.  Hands from both sides lifted him to his feet, so there were two of them.  From their relative heights, he thought it likely that it was his usual pair of bullies.  They took him out the door and turned left, and if he recalled correctly, that was the direction of the room Sullivan usually met Gibson in.  He didn’t fight them, there wasn’t much point, he couldn’t see to escape, and he couldn’t remove the blindfold without his hands.

They paused, opened a door from which even colder air emerged, and took him inside.  They walked him a few feet into the room and then released his arms, leaving him to stand blind in a room he didn’t know the configuration of, though from the feel of the carpet under his bare feet, he thought it was probably the usual meeting room.  He heard the door close.  A moment or two passed, and he could sense someone moving around him on the thick carpet.  “Remove the gag,” Sullivan ordered from in front of Tony.  Someone moved forward to do that, and Tony worked his jaw for a moment after being released.

“We’ve got you back, Tony, thank God,” Kate said in the earwig, and Tony wished he could let her know he could hear her.

“You’re trembling, boy,” Sullivan observed.

“Shivering, actually,” Tony said, and his teeth tried to chatter as he spoke.  “There’s got to be a thirty degree temperature difference between that room and this one.”

Sullivan laughed.  “Not that much, but I suppose enough to have an effect.”  He paused, and Tony couldn’t tell what was happening, but a moment later the air system made a dull thunk, and he felt warm air come rushing into the room.  “We wouldn’t want to make you sick.”  Tony didn’t really have a response, so he remained quiet.

“Sadist,” Kate muttered.  Tony wholeheartedly agreed.

“Your boss has made a serious error,” Sullivan said, and Tony felt his flesh chill in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.  Kate had told him that everything went down fine.  “One hopes it was unintentional, but I have received an irate call from the man he did business with today, claiming that the high end radio units he sold him don’t work.”  Tony felt a light tap on his cheek.  “In light of that, I’m thinking I may just take some liberties with his property.”

“Tony, say the word and we’ll come in,” Kate said.

“Without giving Gibson a chance to explain?” Tony asked.

“I’m giving Gibbs a call now,” Kate said.

“Perhaps I should, but I’d rather like to see what’s on offer.”  Tony felt hands at his waistband, and he knew he couldn’t permit it.  He could tell from the hands and the voice where Sullivan had to be.  He raised his knee as though to catch Sullivan in the groin, which Sullivan evaded easily, of course, though his hands left Tony’s waistband.  However, while he was off balance, Tony aimed based on where he could hear the footfalls and swept Sullivan’s feet out from under him.  He caught at least one foot and he heard a thump and a grunt that made him suspect that Sullivan had, in fact, fallen.  Hands grabbed him from either side, but Tony had made his point.  “Rudy, go get Nathan!” Sullivan ordered, his voice guttural.   The man on his right left and Tony heard the door open and close.  “Get that blindfold off him!”

Tony blinked as vision was restored.  His eyes adjusted quickly, and he could see that Sullivan was in the process of undressing.  Tony’s mouth went dry as the other man removed his pants, freeing an erection that Tony feared he’d caused.  What the hell was with the man?  Tony physically attacked him and it turned him on?  “Go, boy, kneel beside your master’s chair,” Sullivan growled, and Tony, gulping, did as he was told.  “Out of deference to his reputation and the agreement we entered into, I will hold my punishment until after he’s had the chance to explain and rectify the problem, but you are about to see what you can expect if I am not satisfied with his response.”

Tony’s teeth were clenched so hard they hurt because he could think of fifty things to say and any one of them might get him hit or worse if he actually said them.  Now was not the time for wisecracks.

The door opened and Nathan came in followed by Rudy.  Nathan was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but no shoes.  His eyes went first to Sullivan, and then to Tony.  “Strip!” Sullivan commanded, and Nathan’s attention snapped back to his master.  He began to remove his clothes quickly, though he put them in a neat pile on the floor.  “Arms behind your back.”  Nathan obeyed, turning around.  Sullivan seized a pair of cuffs from Rudy and snapped them around Nathan’s wrists.  He shoved Nathan towards the coffee table.  “Assume the position.”  Nathan recovered his balance and fell to his knees at the end of the table, bending over it and spreading his legs, though not before shooting Tony a suspicious glare.  “Are you ready for me, slut?” Sullivan demanded, walking up behind him.

“Always, master,” Nathan said, his head pressed sideways to the table, away from Tony.  That answer said a lot more about Nathan’s private life than Tony ever wanted to know.

“Wider, slut,” Sullivan said, kicking at Nathan’s feet.  Nathan spread his legs wider, and Sullivan went to his knees behind him, rolling a condom into place.  Tony wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.  Sullivan spread Nathan’s butt cheeks and positioned himself.  Then he looked up and met Tony’s eyes with a hard, hungry stare as he thrust hard into Nathan’s waiting ass.  The sex act was violent and aggressive.  At one point Sullivan bit Nathan so hard on the neck that he drew blood, but whatever he did, his eyes always came back to Tony, boring into him, full of threat and promise.

Tony tore his eyes away and stared at the wall opposite.  He knew Nathan was getting something out of this.  He could hear the moans of pleasure as well as the yelps of pain.  Nevertheless, he really didn’t need to witness it, and he didn’t like the way Sullivan kept looking at him while he did it.  Kate kept asking what was happening until Abby pointed out that he couldn’t answer her.  He was glad, because Kate in his ear being as dense as she always was about sex was not helping him cope.

Finally, with a hoarse growl, Sullivan finished and withdrew.  He snapped the condom off and tossed it in the trash.  “Take him to his room and let him finish himself off,” Sullivan said.

Rudy walked forward and helped Nathan to his feet and then out of the room.  Tony saw Nathan’s erection bobbing as he walked out of the corner of his eye, but he kept staring at the opposite wall.  Gibbs had to be arriving soon.  Gibbs would have an explanation for what had gone wrong.  Gibbs would be able to fix it.  Because the only alternatives to that were ending the op without proving Sullivan was a traitor, or surrendering his body for the use he’d just witnessed, neither of which was an acceptable option.

Sullivan walked around behind him, and Tony could not turn to look.  Sullivan leaned close to Tony’s ear, so that Tony could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.  “I’ll bet you’re afraid of me now.”

It wasn’t a question, so Tony didn’t reply.  Sullivan stood up again and left the room, picking up his clothes as he went.  The door shut behind him, but Tony still wasn’t alone.  Mark stood stolidly near the door, his face expressionless.  Tony couldn’t relax with him watching.  He stared at the wall, searching for something else to think about.

He should probably find some way to reassure Kate that he was all right, but he didn’t know how.  Any noise he made could be interpreted in half a dozen ways that wouldn’t be helpful to their cause.  He just kept breathing, trying not to seem alarmed and probably failing dismally.

The door opened and he jumped.  When he saw Gibbs, he felt his whole body relax, and he started to shake.  Gibbs paused in the doorway, his eyes widening, and Tony realized that there was a distinctive musky aroma in the room.  Gibbs crossed the space between them in three big steps.  “Did he –”

“No, Boss,” Tony said.  “He . . . Nathan . . .”  It wasn’t the most coherent of statements, but Gibbs got the gist.

He sank into the chair beside Tony and put his hand on his head.  Evidently he could feel the tremors, because he put his hand on Tony’s shoulder and leaned down.  “Do we need to go?” he asked.

Tony shook his head.  “Not sure they’d let us, Boss.  He says there was a problem with the job you did today.”  Hadn’t Kate gotten through to him?  Of course, he couldn’t let on that he knew even if he did.

“What kind of a problem?”

“He said the radios you sold today didn’t work.”

“Did he touch you?”

Tony shook his head.  “He started to take off my pants, but I stopped him.”

“It was most impressive, Gibson,” Sullivan said, coming in through the open door, once again dressed elegantly.  “Bound as he is now and blindfolded, he knocked me on my ass.”

At the sound of Sullivan’s voice, Tony stiffened slightly.  Gibbs squeezed his shoulder gently.  Looking over at Sullivan with narrowed eyes, he said, “I’m very proud of my boy.  What’s going on?  I reached my room to find that you’d left me a message saying you’d collected him, and he tells me you said there was a problem?”

“Yes, Martin called to complain that ninety percent of the radios you sold him today don’t work.  The first two boxes were fine, but the remaining boxes were all defective.”

Gibbs’ expression went very cold.  His grip on Tony’s shoulder remained gentle, but Tony could see the killer beneath the surface and he knew that Sullivan could too.  “I see.  I’ll have to pay a little visit to my supplier.”

“You do that, but until the problem is solved to Martin’s satisfaction, Vellucci stays with me.”

Gibbs gazed long and hard at Sullivan.  The man was pushing his limits as far as he could.  The simple comment had been enough to cause DiNozzo to press unconsciously closer to Gibbs’ knee.  “That is not happening,” Gibbs said, ruffling through DiNozzo’s hair reassuringly before resting his hand on the back of the younger agent’s neck.  “Vellucci goes with me.”

“He will stay here –”

“Not happening!” Gibbs growled, coming partway out of his chair.  They had things they could arrest him on, and this game had gone far enough.  He could hear voices in the earwig, but, damn it, he was in this room with the bastard, and with a Tony who was shaking like a frightened hound.  The armchair quarterbacks could go to hell.

Sullivan glowered at him, his jaw set.  “Very well.  But this problem had better be solved tomorrow.”

“It will be.”  Gibbs stood the rest of the way up.  “It’s time for dinner.  I’m taking my boy and going.”  Sullivan nodded.  Mark and Rudy started to move.  “Not them.  You take me as I am, or I solve this problem tomorrow and we’re done.”

Sullivan’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be gauging Gibbs’ seriousness.  “There’s no need to be hasty, Gibson,” he said, evidently judging him right.  “I’ll be interested to see how you and Vellucci work together.”

“Vellucci?” Gibbs said, and Tony got to his feet.  “Where are his clothes and shoes?”

“Outside the door, as always,” Sullivan said, tossing Gibbs the keys to the cuffs.

They paused outside the door long enough for Tony to get dressed, then they went out to Gibson Howe’s car.  Gibbs opened the passenger door for Tony, and the younger man slid into the seat without a word.  His unusual silence worried Gibbs somewhat.  He might just be playing the part, but Gibbs wasn’t sure.  He drove and kept watch behind them for followers, and DiNozzo still remained silent.

“You coming in?” Morrow asked.

“We are,” Gibbs said.  “Sir, can you turn off the surveillance?  We’re alone with no prospect of being with the targets.”

Morrow was quiet for a moment.  “Very well.  Switch off, everyone.  I want you all here within the next two hours.  Be careful.”

Gibbs waited a few minutes, then said, “Abby, that means you, too.”

“See you soon, Gibbs,” she said, and then he heard a click that signaled her leaving the line.

He sighed and glanced sideways at DiNozzo.   The young man still wasn’t speaking.  Gibbs wanted to know what was in his head, but he wasn’t sure how to break the silence.  Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, he took them to a drive through and found someplace quiet to park and eat.  DiNozzo looked up when he turned the car off, but he didn’t say anything as Gibbs handed him his order from the bag.

“What happened, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

“Can’t we wait till the debrief, Boss?  I don’t want to go through this twice.”

“It’s up to you.”  Gibbs started eating.

Before long the silence got to be too much for DiNozzo, as Gibbs had known it would.  “He is one freaky bastard,” DiNozzo said.

“I noticed.  Kate said she couldn’t contact you for almost two hours.”

“I think I was in the room where he displayed me to you on Thursday,” DiNozzo said.

“Did anything happen while you were in there?”

DiNozzo shook his head.  “Not really, I tried to fight them off, they overpowered me, stripped me to my pants and tied me up, gagged me and blindfolded me.  It was really hot, so I wasn’t very comfortable, but no one . . .”  He trailed off and Gibbs felt his shoulder muscles tense up.  DiNozzo was clearly remembering something.

“What is it?”

“The door opened and someone started to come in.  Sullivan said that he had the wrong room, that they could look from the next door down.  He might have been talking about something else, but I don’t think so.”

“I agree,” Gibbs said, and DiNozzo gave him a faint smile.  “Do you know who the person was?”

“No.”  DiNozzo’s brow was wrinkled, though, and he looked uncertain.

“What?”

“The voice was familiar.  I could swear I’ve heard it before.  I’m not sure where or when.”

Gibbs blinked.  “It’ll come to you.”

“Anyway, whoever he is, he’s someone Sullivan calls ‘sir.’”

“That’s interesting.”

DiNozzo nodded.  “Yeah.  Well, I sat there for most of the time that Kate couldn’t contact me, then Rudy and Mark came to get me.  I decided not to fight them because I wouldn’t get far.”  Gibbs snorted, and DiNozzo gave him a weak grin in appreciation.  “So, they took me into the meeting room where the temperature was freezing.  I think he was just playing with me because he turned the heat on pretty quickly.  Then he told me about the complaint and said that he thought he’d take liberties with your property.”

“Kate told me,” Gibbs said.  “But she couldn’t tell me what actually happened.”

Tony shrugged.  “I felt his hands on my waistband, and I knew I had to do something.”

“So you took him down.”

“I did,” Tony said, sounding mildly pleased with himself.  “I thought so at the time, but couldn’t be sure he’d gone down until he confirmed it.”

“Good boy,” Gibbs said.

Tony blanched and looked at him uneasily.  “Could you please not call me that?” he said.

Gibbs considered what he’d said and grimaced.  “Sorry.  Good work, DiNozzo.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Tony said, his eyes still a little wild.  “Um . . . the trouble is, my taking him down seemed to turn him on,” he added, and Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “He sent for Nathan, ordered the blindfold removed and told me to kneel by your chair.  Then he told me that out of respect for you, he wasn’t going to touch me, but that he was going to show me what I could expect if your explanation wasn’t to his satisfaction.”

“And then?”

“And then he fucked Nathan, right there in front of me, hard, fast and brutal.”  His words were clipped and his tone flat.

Gibbs studied his agent’s profile for a moment.  “What else?”

DiNozzo gulped.  “What do you mean, what else?”

“Something had you spooked when I came in.”

“That’s not enough?”

“Sure . . . but . . .”  Gibbs let the statement trail off, and after a moment DiNozzo rewarded his patience.

“He was staring at me, the whole time, Boss.  It felt . . . I don’t know, it felt like being raped by proxy.  I mean, it was clear that he wanted me to be where Nathan was.”


	16. Chapter 16

Gibbs blinked. "Okay, that's it," he said. "We're done. I'm calling the op."

"No, Boss!" Tony exclaimed. "We can't, we don't have enough."

"We have plenty, and we have avenues to pursue to get more." He finished his meal and started the car.

"I can handle it, Boss."

"You don't have to handle it."

"I don't want you to stop the operation because I didn't like watching –" DiNozzo broke off and looked out the windshield.

"That's not why," Gibbs said, and Tony gave him a disbelieving look. Gibbs shrugged. "It's too dangerous, DiNozzo. The gains aren't commensurate to the risks."

"Okay, Boss," Tony said, but the way he thumped his head against the headrest of his chair made it clear that he wasn't happy. Gibbs didn't know what to say, so he just kept driving. Finally, they were walking out of the elevator.

Kate jumped up from her desk and came running over. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Peachy," DiNozzo said.

"Tony, you –" Kate started, but Gibbs could see DiNozzo's temper fraying.

"Is Ducky here?" Gibbs interjected.

"No," she said.

"DiNozzo, with me," he ordered, and he headed up the stairs to the director's office. DiNozzo followed him silently.

"Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo, please, sit down," Morrow said. Gibbs closed the door behind him and sat down. He hoped the director had not failed to notice the stiffness with which DiNozzo was moving.

"I'm calling the op, director," he said immediately, not wanting to mince words. "It's gotten too dangerous for DiNozzo, and I can't continue it without him."

"Please explain your reasoning, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs pursed his lips. "Sullivan keeps escalating, and he used the excuse of this radio snafu to basically torture DiNozzo for two hours, physically and mentally."

DiNozzo let out a startled exclamation. "I was just tied to a chair."

"You were blindfolded, gagged and tied to a chair in a position you have yet to describe to me, half naked in a room that was deliberately heated to the point where you were perspiring, and you were there for about two hours. Is that accurate?"

DiNozzo grimaced, but he nodded. "Yeah, Boss."

Morrow leaned forward. "What position, if I may ask?"

DiNozzo shrugged, and the movement caused him to wince. "My arms were cuffed behind me, then attached to the chair back somehow. It was solid, I couldn't even shake it."

"I can see damage to the sides of your mouth from the gag," Morrow said, and DiNozzo rubbed the corners of his mouth self-consciously. "Was it tied that tightly?"

"It wasn't tied, sir," DiNozzo said. "It was . . . it was a bit, essentially, buckled behind my head."

"I see."

Gibbs saw that DiNozzo wasn't going to say anything more. "And then he was moved into a room that was deliberately cooled to mess with his head, then threatened with violent sexual assault."

"The demonstration?" Morrow asked, and Gibbs nodded. "How bad was it?" he asked, turning to DiNozzo.

Gibbs glanced at his agent's face and saw that DiNozzo looked particularly blank. Gibbs cleared his throat. "He described it as being raped by proxy."

DiNozzo turned his head sharply to look at him, then bit his lip. "It was . . . disturbing, sir," he said to Morrow.

"I can see that."

"Furthermore, director, we have evidence of multiple crimes that can be directly attributed to Sullivan, and we now have people we can get information from, some of whom probably won't be that hard to convince to talk."

"Hogan?" DiNozzo asked.

"Him, and I doubt Simon would hold out for long."

"Do we arrest him now?" Morrow asked.

"The sooner the better," Gibbs said. "Pick up the others, too, and have someone go get our stuff from the hotel."

DiNozzo nodded. "I can –"

"Not you, DiNozzo," Gibbs said to him. Turning to Director Morrow, he added, "I want him taken to the hospital and checked out."

"I agree."

"I'm good," DiNozzo said. "I don't need –"

"It's not a discussion, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "You're injured, you're already targeted by most of these guys, you're not going."

"I'll have someone drive him over," Morrow said.

"I don't need to be driven," DiNozzo complained. "If you're going to cut me out of the arrest phase, fine, but I'm okay to drive."

"Agent McGee?" Gibbs suggested.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Morrow said.

Before a half hour had passed, Tony found himself on the way to Bethesda in the custody of someone who wasn't even a real field agent. "Are you okay?" McGee asked.

"I'm fine, that's why they want me to go to the hospital," Tony said.

"Oh," McGee said uncomfortably. "I didn't . . . I meant . . ."

Tony sighed. "Sorry, kid. I'm just a little on edge."

"I don't blame you. Agent Todd couldn't figure out what was happening, but it seemed pretty obvious to me."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"I couldn't imagine saying any of that to her. She's so . . ."

"Yeah," Tony said with a snort. "She is."

"You find her intimidating, too?" McGee said, sounding startled.

Since that hadn't been what Tony thought he was going to say, he shrugged, clenching his teeth against the pain of his strained shoulders. "Sometimes."

McGee pulled up outside Bethesda's emergency room. "I'm supposed to leave you here and go back to help with the computer searches," he said. "Is this okay?

"Sure, I can take it from here," Tony said. He got out. "See ya, kid."

McGee drove off and Tony considered for about thirty seconds the option of calling a cab and just going home. He shook his head. As Gibbs might say, the rewards were not commensurate to the risks. Sighing, he went inside and checked himself in. There followed a lot of poking and prodding, the question of whether he needed a rape kit – no, he did not. The nurses made tut-tut noises over his bite marks, and if he didn't feel up to flirting with them, that was just icing on the cake of his day.

It was about eight a.m. when they finally released him. He called Gibbs. "What did the doctor say?" Gibbs asked.

"That I should take a few days off, go home and get some rest. I figured I could just come in and –"

"Nope. Go home. You haven't slept in twenty-four hours, get some sleep, come in tomorrow."

"Gibbs, I can –"

"That's an order, DiNozzo." And being Gibbs, he didn't wait for a response, he just hung up.

Tony found a cab and went back to his place. He unlocked the door and walked into blessed solitude. Locking the door behind him, he went and took a long, steamy shower. When he finally felt clean, he fell into bed and slept like a rock for eight solid hours.

He looked over at the clock and read the numbers. Four in the afternoon. He'd slept the day away. He reached over and picked up the phone to call Gibbs. He got voice mail, so he tried Kate instead. She answered. "Tony, how are you?"

"Fine," he said, though he ached all over and all he wanted to do was go back to bed. "How's it going?"

"Hogan spilled enough on Sullivan to keep him in prison for years," Kate said. "And he's not the only one. Gibbs is in with Sullivan now."

Tony would have given a lot to see that. "So, I'm just going to get cleaned up and come –"

"Gibbs left orders that you not come in until tomorrow at the earliest, Tony," Kate said. "You need some rest."

"And he doesn't want Sullivan to see me."

"That could be part of it," Kate agreed, thinking of the sheer fury Gibbs had been quietly demonstrating all day.

Kate heard Tony's sigh, but abruptly, Gibbs strode up out of nowhere and snatched the phone out of her hand. "DiNozzo, I thought I told you to rest," Gibbs said. He listened for about a second, then said, "Well, watch a movie or something. I don't want to see you here till tomorrow." And then he hung up before Tony could possibly have responded, slamming the phone down on her desk. So . . . the fury was mostly quiet.

Kate looked up at her boss. "You know he's going to come in anyway, don't you?"

"Well, then I'll just have McGee drive him home again." Gibbs said in a bad tempered tone. "Have we figured out yet what happened with those radios?"

Kate grimaced. "Yes. The tech who was given the task of putting the product together was told that it was for an undercover operation and made the assumption that it was a sting, and that no more than the first few boxes would be tested."

Gibbs glowered at her for what felt like several minutes. "He didn't ask any questions?"

"No, apparently. He says, furthermore, that he wouldn't want to give good radios to bad guys anyway."

"Did you point out to him that the undercover operatives he was supporting could have been killed based on his blunder?" Gibbs asked.

Kate nodded. "I did, and I also spoke to his supervisor."

Gibbs pressed his lips together firmly. "Have you got any new information on Steinman?"

She shook her head. "I'm still looking, Gibbs."

"Stop looking and start finding!" Gibbs snapped and walked away towards the coffee machine. Kate took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then got back to work.

* * *

After hanging up the phone, Tony rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen. He stuffed a breakfast burrito in the microwave and leaned against the counter, waiting for it to cook. When it was done, he grabbed it and cursed the hot contents that tried to ooze out and burn him. He dumped the 'great for commuting' burrito onto a plate and wandered into the living room, eating while he studied his wall of digital entertainment. He grabbed half a dozen DVDs and stuck them into the player, but he couldn't settle to any one movie.

He left the plate on the counter and went in to get dressed. What could Gibbs do if he showed up, anyway? It's not like he could arrest him for coming in to work.

Locking the door behind him, he headed downstairs to his car in the parking garage. The day was gloomy, and rain looked likely before night really fell. He dug in his pocket for his keys as he walked between his car and the Volvo belonging to his elderly neighbor, Mr. Morton.

A screeching sound echoed through the garage, startling him, and he whirled. A large white van was coming around the corner and Tony redoubled his efforts to find his keys. He got them out and got the car unlocked before four men wearing ski masks came boiling out the side door towards him. He dove towards the driver's seat, though it wasn't going to do him much good since the van was blocking his car in.

Something hit him in the back and clung, and he abruptly felt electricity shooting through his body. His balance already too far forward, he fell to his knees, cracking his head on the window handle. The electricity stopped, but his body wouldn't respond to his commands right away. Hands grabbed him and dragged him into the van, and the vehicle took off so fast that he could feel all the men around him grabbing for handholds. Once they were stable, they flipped him on his stomach, tied his hands and feet, and then blindfolded and gagged him. He was getting tired of that, particularly of the last two. These weren't BDSM gear, though, these were strips of cloth.

He lay on the floor of the van, recovering from the taser blast and wondering what could possibly be coming next.

* * *

When three hours had passed and DiNozzo still hadn't come in, Gibbs quietly called his home number. He knew DiNozzo, he knew his inability to butt out and his inability to sit still. That DiNozzo hadn't shown had to indicate that he was worse off than they'd suspected. There was no answer to his home phone, so Gibbs tried his cell. When there was no answer there, he knit his brows.

"McGee?" he snapped.

"Yes, Boss . . . I mean, Gibbs," McGee said.

"Can you track DiNozzo's cell phone?"

"If it's on, and if it's either in use or has a GPS chip."

"Find out," Gibbs said, then he headed down to the lab for Abby's promised report.

"Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, looking up with a grin and turning her music off. "I have a plethora of fingerprints from that meeting room and the viewing room, and isn't that the creepiest thing ever? Imagine, total strangers could have gone in and looked at Tony half naked and all tied up and gagged, and he wouldn't have known or been able to do anything about it if he did. I can't –"

"Abby, I'm assuming you have more than fingerprints, or you wouldn't have called me."

Abby blinked at him, and he could see her realizing that she'd been babbling again. "Right. I have about six more people for you to go out and talk to." Their names, photos and bios popped up on the screen, in tiny print that made it very difficult to read. He didn't recognize any of them.

"Abby, can you print out the information? I –"

"Already done," she said, and he scooped the papers out of the printer bin. "How's Tony?"

"I'm not sure," he said as he left her lab.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" she called after him, but he just hit the elevator button. "Gibbs?!" she exclaimed, coming to the doorway. "What do you mean you're not sure?"

He shrugged. "He's not answering his phone."

"Either of his phones?" He shook his head. "That's not a good sign."

The elevator doors opened, so he gave her another shrug and went inside, hitting the button for the squad room. She gazed at him worriedly as long as she could, leaning sideways as the doors slid shut. Gibbs stepped forward as soon as the elevator doors opened again, startling a couple of agents who were waiting to go down. "McGee!" he said as he entered the bullpen.

"His phone is either off or his GPS chip is disabled," McGee said anxiously.

"Tony, turn his phone off?" Kate said, giving Gibbs a mildly alarmed look.

Gibbs walked to his desk and dialed DiNozzo's home number again. Four rings then a cheery voice telling him to leave a message. "Kate, you're with me. McGee, keep trying and get Abby to help. Let me know if you find anything."

He strode towards the elevator, not waiting for Kate to gather her things, but she joined him before the doors closed. "Where are we going, Gibbs?" she asked.

"DiNozzo's apartment. He might be more hurt than he let on."

Kate nodded slowly. "But you don't think that's what it is," she said, and it wasn't a question.

He grimaced. "Someone walked in on him while he was blindfolded. He heard a couple of words, recognized the voice, but couldn't place it."

"And you think that person may have recognized him?" Kate hazarded.

"It's a possibility."

"That's not good," she said.

"No."


	17. Chapter 17

They didn't drive all that far, maybe ten or fifteen minutes worth, and they bumped up over some kind of lip before they came to a stop. The guys got out, leaving Tony where he was, on his side in the cold van. Once he was alone, he worked the blindfold off and tried for the gag, but it was tied too tightly. The knots on his hands and feet were also too tight, and they tightened when he struggled, so he quit that quickly and tried listening.

For several minutes, all he heard was indistinct thumps and clanks, then there was a rush of air moving. It sounded like one of those massive heaters used in warehouses. He was glad of the possibility of heat. The cold was making his muscles stiffen and ache. Being tied like this wasn't helping with the strain his shoulders had already suffered.

"When's he getting here?" A male voice, Tony thought, he didn't recognize it.

"I haven't called him yet." Another man, this one closer to the van. Tony wondered who 'he' was.

"You'd better call. We don't want to be caught with him."

Tony thought he knew who that 'him' was.

"He's not due back at work for a day or two, nobody will miss him anytime soon."

"Yeah, well, I don't want any mistakes. Look what happened to Mr. S."

They went quiet after that, moving away or talking more quietly. Tony figured this had to be that elusive voice he'd heard while blindfolded, but try as he might, he still couldn't place it. It sounded, though, like he'd be finding out fairly soon.

* * *

Kate watched Gibbs pull out a key to DiNozzo's front door and wondered how close to the two men were. The way Tony talked, he and Gibbs were miles apart, and that was the way they seemed at the office. Gibbs didn't have a key to her place, though.

Inside, everything seemed cleaner than Kate would have expected for a man of DiNozzo's stated habits and attitudes. And despite his claims of being cut off from the family fortune, some of it had found its way to him, she was sure. The furniture was expensive, and he had the latest top of the line video equipment. As Gibbs headed towards what had to be the bedroom and bathroom, she went into the kitchen and looked around. Plate on the counter, left for later, otherwise pretty spotless. Maybe he had a cleaning service. She continued out into the dining area and saw the answering machine. It had a light flashing – one message. She could not imagine Tony leaving a message on the machine.

"Gibbs, he's got a message."

"Play it," Gibbs said, emerging into the front room.

Kate pushed the button and a baritone voice filled the room. "Tony, hey, it's Michael." He sounded slightly anxious and uncertain. "I thought I'd give you a heads up. My father called me earlier, and all he did was ask questions about you, and it seemed really off to me. Give me a call. There are things I should tell you that I don't want to leave on an answering machine." There was another beep and then a time stamp of less than a half hour ago.

"No last name?" Gibbs growled.

Kate pushed the button again and got a breezy feminine voice. Hurriedly, she bypassed the other saved messages and got back to the guy again. "No last name, but his phone number's on the caller ID," she said.

Gibbs walked over, pulling his cell phone out. He dialed quickly and stood for a second or two, radiating tension. She could hear the ringing faintly, and then the voice when the call was answered. "May I speak to Michael?" Gibbs said. "I see, this is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. I work with Tony DiNozzo." He paused, clearly listening. Kate couldn't hear the words, but the tone got louder as if the caller were agitated. "I don't know," Gibbs said. "All I know for certain is that I can't reach him. You left a message on DiNozzo's machine . . . yes, I listened." Gibbs nodded a couple of times. "Look, I don't care. Would DiNozzo be likely to recognize your father's voice, and do you think your father would be a threat to his safety?" Gibbs eyes grew cold as ice as he listened to the answer. "Just who is your father, Michael?"

* * *

Tony heard another vehicle arriving, and the echoes of the doors opening and closing told him that it was definitely a warehouse. He wasn't sure what he hoped. If this was the 'he' that they were waiting for, it might just bring him a few steps closer to death.

About five minutes later, the side door of the van opened again, and Tony looked up. "Damn it, what happened to the blindfold?" demanded the man he saw. He was a beefy guy with a regulation haircut and Tony memorized his face. No knowing if he'd need the knowledge, but he'd be pissed later if he did and he hadn't made the effort.

"It hardly matters." The voice sharpened Tony's attention. It was the man whose voice he'd heard the previous day, when he was with Sullivan. This didn't bode well. "Either way he leaves here, he won't be a threat to you." Tony considered that statement. No, it didn't bode well at all. He still couldn't picture a face, but apparently that exercise wouldn't be necessary for much longer. The beefy guy grabbed him and dragged him out of the van, throwing him over his shoulder. Tony wondered uneasily about the guy's strength. He wasn't a small man.

Craning his neck proved too painful to sustain for long, so the result was that all he saw for several moments was beefy's butt. Then beefy thumped him down on a straight back chair. Not good for the tailbone or the back as he smacked against the slats of the chair. Then beefy moved out of the way and Tony stared at the man who was sitting opposite him.

"Senator Webber?" he breathed, finally putting a face to the voice and stunned by the result.

"Anthony, you're not looking well," Webber said, leaning forward. "I noticed a great many bruises on your torso when I saw you yesterday, and you're looking slightly peaked."

"Lying tied up on the floor of a van doesn't particularly agree with me," Tony said hollowly. Senator Webber? He was having trouble wrapping his mind around that idea. Webber's son Michael and Tony had been unlikely friends at the Rhode Island Military Academy, and on some of the all too frequent occasions when his father had been out of town or simply too busy for Tony to come home during school vacations, Tony had stayed with the Webbers. He hadn't seen all that much of the senator, but enough to recognize him now – and to know his voice. "What's going on here?"

"You didn't recognize my voice yesterday, did you?" Webber asked, knitting his brows.

"I probably would have put it together eventually," Tony said, "but, no, I didn't."

"Fair enough. I had to go back and check Michael's yearbooks to be sure it was you."

Tony was shaking internally. If they hadn't ended the op, Webber might just have gone back to Sullivan and told him who he was. "So, now what?" Tony asked, gesturing vaguely with his bound feet.

"Now we discuss our mutual dilemma," Webber said genially.

"Mutual dilemma?" Tony repeated, feeling very stupid. His brain needed a jump start. It had stalled out in neutral upon seeing Webber.

"Yes. You have to be thinking, do you inform against the man who was so very kind to you in your youth, or do you join him and reap the benefits?"

Tony blinked at him. "Join you in what?" he asked.

Webber went on as if Tony hadn't spoken. "And of course my dilemma is, do I count on the silence of a boy of whom I am fond, or do I have him killed, which would grieve me terribly?"

"Senator Webber," Tony said, "I don't –"

"You may, of course, call me John, Anthony," Webber said.

"Only my father calls me Anthony," Tony said. Then his brain shoved random facts at him and he found himself babbling. "Actually, Ducky calls me Anthony, but he's British and extremely formal and polite almost all the time. Calls his assistant Mr. Palmer and everything. He even calls Abby Abigail, which she hates – and gets away with it – but that's Ducky for you." Tony finally managed to rein in his mouth.

Webber tilted his head and smiled. "I gather the gist of that is that you'd rather I call you Tony than Anthony?" Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak. How the hell was he getting out of this without making a commitment that might just make him a traitor? "Very well, Tony. I would very much like you to join me. We are alike, in a sense, you and I."

"We are?" Tony asked.

"You have been abandoned by your father, and I have been abandoned by my son."

"Michael?" Tony said, startled. "He never said anything like that to me."

"It was neither as obvious nor as clear an abandonment as your father's, Tony," Webber said heavily. "He simply refused to work for me, refused even to participate in my campaigns once he became old enough to have an opinion."

Tony had known for years that Michael didn't like his father. It was one of the things that had drawn them to each other in school, and which had kept them friends despite their differing interests. Michael had always been an egghead, and Tony . . . well, Tony wasn't. Abandonment seemed like a big word, though. Tony knew that Michael still visited his father.

"You wouldn't have done that, would you?" Webber asked.

"Could we have this conversation without me tied up?" Tony asked hopefully.

Webber glanced at the beefy guy. "I recommend against it, Senator," he said. "I've never heard even the slightest rumor about him being dirty, and he's on the premier team. I wouldn't risk untying him till we're sure of him."

Webber turned back to Tony. "I'm sorry, Tony. You heard the man."

"I still don't know what I'd be joining you in, John," Tony said.

"That's true enough." Webber gave him a sober look. "You know we're at war, of course, Tony?" he asked. Tony resisted the urge to say 'duh' and simply nodded. "And do you know what the inevitable consequence of war is?"

"Death," Tony said, having dealt with some of those consequences up close and personal. Nothing like finding out that a man you had successfully proved to be innocent of a crime had died on the battlefield. "And maiming."

Webber nodded, his expression grave. "Those, certainly, but in war there is always money to be made."

"Money?" Tony repeated blankly.

"Yes, son, money. If you keep your head and look at the conflict logically, there is much money to be made. Sullivan saw that, and he will be very hard to replace. He was uniquely positioned for smuggling."

Tony nodded slowly. "He would be," he said. Logistics would provide a dandy cover. And now they had the proof they'd needed. How was he going to get out of this so he could tell someone?

* * *

McGee walked into Abby's lab. "Hey, Abby, I've run out of ideas for –"

"Shhh!" Abby said peremptorily, and McGee fell silent, confused. A moment later he understood why she'd shut him up.

". . . was uniquely positioned for smuggling," said a masculine voice.

"He would be." That was Tony, sounding tense and noncommittal.

"What is this?" he hissed.

"Tony's wearing that belt. We didn't take the wire off it when he went to the hospital, so he's still got it."

"So he has to be within transmission radius of the Navy Yard," McGee said excitedly. "We've got to tell –"

"No," Abby said. "He's within transmission radius of one of the cars." She pointed to the telltale on the screen that indicated the source of the data transmission.

"But with a man inside NCIS, we'd have an easier time," said the unfamiliar voice. "You could let us know if there were any suspicions, you could warn us of raids. We already know you're good at pretense."

"I can see the benefits," Tony said.

"He's not going over, is he?" McGee asked, his voice squeaking. He wouldn't believe it of DiNozzo, but terror could do strange things to a – Abby smacked him on the back of the head.

"Of course he's not!" she exclaimed. "But if he doesn't drag it out, they'll kill him now."

"Right," McGee said. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he'd only recently dared to program in.

Several rings passed and then a gruff voice answered, offering him voicemail. McGee disconnected and dialed Kate's number instead. "What is it, McGee?" she asked, sounding impatient.

"Tony's still wearing his wire, and we're picking it up from a car. Which car did you sign out?"

"Number forty-three," she said, and McGee leaned over to look at the screen.

"That means you and Gibbs are within five miles of his location."

"What's happening?"

"A man is trying to subvert him to . . . to . . . to what, Abby?"

Abby seized the phone and put it on speaker. "Senator Webber is trying to get him to join him in treason."

"Can you tell where he is exactly?"

"No," Abby said.

"Maybe," McGee said a moment later, and Abby turned to him, eyes wide. "If we got another car out there, we might be able to triangulate the location of the broadcast."

"He's right," Abby said eagerly. "I'd better call the director."

"You do that, I'll tell Gibbs."

Kate turned to Gibbs who was hanging up his phone. "Abby and McGee have a line on Tony's location."

Gibbs' eyes widened. "Where is he?"

"Within five miles of us right now," she said. "But they need to get another car out here to triangulate or something."

Gibbs' phone beeped and he looked down at it. He hit a button and held the phone up to his ear. "McGee?" he snapped. "Can you take a reading from our present position, then let us move and take a reading from there?" Kate watched Gibbs' face. A grim satisfaction came over it. "Good. We're on our way down to the car now." He strode forward as he spoke, shutting his phone and pocketing it.

Kate followed after hastily, but she waited till they were in the elevator before she spoke. "I guess Tony's wearing his wire, still, and they're picking it up through the transmitter in our car."

"Which means we should be able to hear it, too," Gibbs said.

Kate nodded, though she hadn't actually been thinking of that. "He's with Senator Webber. I think he's the –"

"Senior senator from New York," Gibbs said, interrupting her. "And the father of a friend from high school that DiNozzo's apparently still in touch with."

"Really?" Kate said.

Gibbs nodded, reflecting on the story that Michael Webber had told him with definite alarm. If the young lawyer was to be trusted, and Gibbs' gut told him he was, his father had previously shown an unhealthy interest in DiNozzo.


	18. Chapter 18

"Of course you can see the benefits, Tony," Webber said. "You're a smart young man. I've always thought that your father simply didn't know how to handle you." There wasn't a lot Tony could say to that. "I sometimes wish he hadn't been so insistent on your taking the internship I offered you the year after graduation."

Tony blinked at him. "His insistence might have sealed it, sir, but I had already decided against it," he said.

"Sir?" Webber repeated. "I thought you were calling me John."

Tony shrugged, but hissed from the pain the movement caused him. "It's a little diff –"

"Tony, what's wrong?" Webber asked, leaning forward, his eyes crinkled with worry.

"Um . . ." Tony wasn't sure what to say.

"Do your shoulders hurt?"

"A bit," Tony said.

"Untie him, please," Webber ordered beefy.

"Sir, I must protest. He's not safe."

"If you must, you may tie them in front of him, but I don't want him in pain that we can avoid."

One of the other men came forward at beefy's gesture, and while beefy held a gun on Tony, the other man untied his hands and retied them in front. It was a relief on his abused muscles and tendons, but it wasn't much of an advance.

"What's it going to take to convince you, Stuart?" Webber asked.

"If you accept his assurance, Senator, I will have no choice but to accept it as well," beefy said, and Tony knew what that meant. Beefy would keep a close eye on him, prepared to kill him if there was the slightest hint that Tony was going to the authorities.

"What sort of money are we talking about?" Tony asked.

Kate looked up at Gibbs, eyes wide. "You don't think he –"

"I think he's keeping himself alive till we find him," Gibbs snapped, looking irritated, and Kate nodded. She should have thought of that.

"Well, we're selling weapons to anyone who's interested in buying," said the voice that had to be Senator Webber.

Kate listened to the pause before Tony responded, wondering what he was thinking. "Afghani insurgents?" he asked finally.

"And Iraqi," Webber said. "And Hezbollah, as I said, anyone who's interested. We had an excellent deal go down in Somalia last year."

"Either they kill him or he agrees," Gibbs muttered. "And if they find the wire, he's dead." He came to a sudden, screeching stop, causing Kate to jolt forward against her seatbelt. He grabbed his phone and dialed. "McGee, we're about five miles away from DiNozzo's complex. Is it enough?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Yes, but what kind of money am I looking at? I have expensive tastes, and you know my father."

"I wondered about that," Webber said, his voice amused. "You see, Stuart, it's not a question of looking dirty. Why would we want a man who looked dirty? There would be eyeballs on him all the time. A man who looks clean but who has a reasonable explanation for extra money is much better."

Tony chuckled. "And I am good at pretense," he said.

Gibbs tossed his phone to her, and that was all the warning she got that he was going to move. He took off like a bat out of hell, turning right at the next intersection. Kate put the phone to her ear and found that McGee was still talking. ". . . not as narrow an area as you might like, but I'll keep –"

"It's me, McGee," Kate said.

"Oh. Right, you're on the move." He was silent for a moment. "Have him turn left on Wilson."

"Gibbs, left on Wilson," Kate said. He cut another car off getting into the turn lane and squeezed through the light. She continued to pass McGee's directions on to Gibbs and finally they came to a stop outside of a business park with several offices and a couple of warehouses. By this time, they had picked up a tail with sirens wailing, and Kate could hear the siren on the wire feed.

Gibbs snatched the phone back. "Has anyone looked at the names on the warehouses yet?"

The officer from the car behind them walked forward to stand by Gibbs' window. From the feed, Kate heard something about sirens. She leaned across Gibbs to press the down button for the window. She put her badge out and spoke in a hurried undertone. "NCIS, we have an emergency. Please continue to act like this is a routine traffic stop."

"Um . . ." the officer said.

". . . and look," came an unfamiliar voice on the feed.

"Please, a man's life may be at stake," she said.

The officer stood up and flipped his citation book open. "Do you know how fast you were going?" he asked.

Gibbs snapped the phone shut. "Yes, and it was necessary," he said. "And I'm drafting you for a raid."

Kate heard that but her focus was on the feed. "Just a cop pulling someone over," said a voice in reply.

"Then go get us some coffee," said Senator Webber.

"Gibbs, they can see us from where they are," she said.

"I know," Gibbs said, holding out his driver's license. "Finish your ticket, Officer Hobart, then meet us around on Jackson."

Hobart nodded, took the license, then walked back to his car. He was there for several minutes, and though she knew full well that it was standard procedure that they didn't dare deviate from, she fretted anxiously.

"I'm not much of a coffee drinker," Tony said on the feed. "Got any cola?"

"In this weather?" Webber asked.

"Could you please untie me?" Tony asked.

"I think we can trust him now, Stuart," Webber said.

"Senator –" Stuart said, but Webber interrupted him.

"You were going to trust my judgment, right?"

"Sir, I'd like a little more information. He's got a lot on us, we have nothing on him. He should show us the same faith that we've exhibited."

Kate hoped Tony was up to manufacturing some useful peccadilloes that would be sufficiently dirty for Stuart but not believable enough to anyone else that he would have to defend himself against future charges. Meanwhile, Hobart was coming back. He ripped a sheet off his pad, handed it to Gibbs, then said, "Drive safely, sir, and have a nice day."

Gibbs nodded, handed her the ticket receipt and drove off as Hobart headed back to his car. She looked down at it in bemusement. None of the blanks were filled in, but across the whole thing in heavy print there was a note that read, "Back up meeting us at Jackson and Bartlett."

"But they don't know what's going on?"

"Hobart didn't," Gibbs said. "But dispatch probably called NCIS and got the skinny."

Kate blinked. "Right." She heaved a sigh of relief that it wasn't going to be just the two of them plus Hobart.

"Look," Tony said, sounding a little defensive, and Kate realized she'd lost track of his conversation. "I told you what I've been doing, but I'm not giving you names."

"Trust, my boy," Webber said.

Tony moistened his lips. "Sir, I am trusting you – with my own activities – but I can't extend trust for my business associates," he said, hoping it would make sense to the senator and his heavy. Webber leaned forward, a remonstrative look on his face, and Tony knew what he was going to say. "I'm sorry, John. It's difficult, you're a senator and I'm a government employee." Webber sat back, smiling, apparently satisfied.

Stuart shook his head. "I don't see that it's enough, Senator. Nebulous stories about kickbacks and bribery don't come to the same level."

Tony pressed his lips together. "I don't even know the names of all the people here," he said. "Not to mention anyone else apart from Sullivan, who is under arrest and currently in custody."

"Didn't he offer enough?" Stuart asked.

"He didn't get a chance," Tony replied. "Gibbs was there, calling all the shots, and he's a boy scout."

"If Gibbs hadn't been there, would you have slept with him?" Webber asked, and Tony, who had been looking at Stuart, turned back to the senator with wide eyes. Webber stood up and walked around behind Tony. "I'm just curious, my boy," he said. "Are you entirely straight, or do you stray to the other side of the playground?"

Tony had no idea how to play this. It was a little stunning to be asked a question like that by a friend's father. Hands landed on his shoulders, thumbs stroking his back in a friendly and familiar way. "Um . . ." he said intelligently.

"He's straight," Stuart said. "You should see his face."

"Are you straight, Tony?" Webber asked, squeezing Tony's shoulders.

"Um . . . pretty much," Tony said. He didn't think he could play the gay card very well with his friend's father. He hoped it wasn't a deal breaker, because getting shot right now would really screw up his whole week.

"Maybe I can change your mind," Webber said, releasing Tony's shoulders and walking back towards his chair. "Now, if –"

"Stu, Stu!" yelled a voice from the loft, and the senator broke off. "I think we're –"

All hell broke loose before the unseen man could finish his sentence. Doors all around flew open and there were yells in familiar and unfamiliar voices, far more unfamiliar ones yelling, "Police, freeze!" Tony threw himself to the ground to avoid being caught in crossfire, and to make it harder for anyone to use him as a shield. After several moments and more gunshots than he could count, he felt a hand scrabbling at his collar, a gun to the back of his neck, the barrel burning hot against his skin.

"Freeze!" Kate ordered. Tony could have cheered if his situation had been less dire.

Stuart spoke from far too close to Tony. "I could kill him before you –"

"Don't even think about it," said a grim voice behind them, and Tony felt Stuart turn to look at Gibbs. A second later, his hand left Tony's neck and the gun fell to the floor next to him.

Tony shifted onto his side to relieve some of the pressure on his arms, scrabbling slightly in an effort to sit up. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and helped him upright. "How'd you guys find me so fast?" he asked, a little bewildered.

Gibbs snorted. "You forgot to turn in your wire," he said, reaching down to untie Tony's hands.

"I did what?" Tony said blankly.

"Wire?" Stuart exclaimed from where a cop was cuffing him. "Son of a –"

"Let's go," said the police officer.

Tony watched them lead his erstwhile captors away, rubbing his wrists. "How much got caught?"

"I don't know exactly, but enough," Gibbs said. He was untying Tony's feet. "Are you hurt?"

"Not much more than I was," Tony said with a sigh. "A few more bruises, nothing else. I really don't need to go back to the hospital." Gibbs gave him a noncommittal look that Tony read as fat chance, and he sighed again.

"What's wrong, Tony?" Kate asked. "You managed to string him on long enough to get plenty of evidence. I mean, we'll have to corroborate it all, but the kidnapping's pretty cut and dried."

Tony shrugged, closing his eyes. Kate didn't need to know what had just been broken in this warehouse. She wouldn't understand, and even if she did, it would be a chink in his armor, and he couldn't afford that. Not with someone like Kate, who'd decided he was a pervert and jackass on their first meeting. People were always looking at him like he was a jerk when he rode her, but he only gave as good as he got.

He wondered how Michael would react to Tony's being instrumental in his father's arrest. Even as much as he disliked and disapproved of his father, that could still become a barrier between them, and Michael was one of the few people who actually knew anything about him.

"How well did you know him?" Gibbs asked softly, and Tony looked up to find that everyone else had moved farther away.

"Apparently not very," Tony said, trying for flippant. It came out shell-shocked, and he didn't know what he could do about that. "I mean, not only is he a complete mercenary bastard, he hit on me."

"He did what?" Gibbs exclaimed.

"He hit on me," Tony said again. "Gibbs, I think I could count on the fingers of one hand all the guys who have _ever_ hit on me before this op." He shuddered. "Am I now irresistible to gay men? Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, but I'm not, and I don't want . . ." He shook his head. "What the hell is going on?"

Gibbs pressed his lips together and was silent for a long moment, and Tony figured he wasn't going to say anything. Finally, he sat back and said, "Marino and Sullivan are, first and foremost, rapists. Not your typical gay men." Tony gulped. True as that was, he didn't really like the implication either. To his mind, being attractive to gay rapists was not better than being attractive to gay men in general. "And Webber . . ."

"Ugh!" Tony said, shuddering again.

"He saw you in a highly sexualized environment, packaged as –"

"Yeah," Tony interjected. "I get it."

Gibbs shrugged. "And he was already interested, according to his son."

Tony grimaced and looked away. "I wondered about that internship," he said, but then he processed the last part of Gibbs' comment. "His son?" he said, turning back. "You spoke to Michael?"

"He left a message on your answering machine. I called him back."

"Agent Gibbs?" Tony looked up to see Aaron Garner approaching. He was pulling on latex gloves. "We need to clear the scene."

"Right." Gibbs slipped his arm around Tony's shoulders. "Up you come."

It was harder to get up than Tony had expected. The cold had seeped into his bones, stiffening all his strained muscles and tendons. He felt creaky and elderly, which was ridiculous. He was thirty-one years old, not eighty-one.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, you don't need to go to the hospital."

Tony nodded, pulling free of Gibbs. "A few hours of sleep and I'll be fine," he said.

Gibbs refrained from laughing at his agent's ludicrous claim. He doubted even DiNozzo knew just how not fine he was. He'd have to keep an eye on him, since the chances of anyone convincing him to see a shrink just now were slim to none. Once again he wished he could shoot that idiot woman, now because her stupidity would rob DiNozzo of help he might very well need. Nevertheless, he let DiNozzo totter to the car without help, knowing how important it was to his pride.


	19. Chapter 19

Tony was brooking no refusal this time.  He didn’t bother calling after he was done at the hospital, he just caught a cab straight to NCIS.  He didn’t really want to go home at the moment, since it was from his own apartment building that he had been abducted this last time.  He rode the elevator up to the squad room and found only McGee there, and he was sitting at Tony’s desk.  The younger man jumped up, looking alarmed and nervous.

“Sorry, Tony, I wasn’t trying to –”

Tony shook his head.  “S’okay, kid,” he said tiredly.  “Where’s Gibbs?”

“Up in interrogation,” McGee replied.

Tony nodded and didn’t slow down.  He just kept walking to the elevator and hit the button.  He’d just nip into the observation room and watch Gibbs tear whoever it was down.  That would feel good.  The doors opened and Tony stared in shock.  Clearly Gibbs was waiting for someone, because it was Wallace and Garner with Sullivan between them.  Sullivan grinned.

There was a second of silence, then Wallace said, “Going up?”  Tony nodded without speaking.  “I think you’d better take the next car.”

Tony was willing, and Wallace reached out to hit the Door Close button.  Sullivan laughed and said, “I knew you were scared of me, Tony.”  The jab made it impossible for Tony to follow the prudent course.  He thrust his hand forward between the two doors and stepped into the elevator.  He then had to force himself to turn his back on Sullivan.  He could tell that his move had alarmed both Wallace and Garner, but he couldn’t let Sullivan get away with it.  Sullivan snorted.  “Is that your name?  Tony?”

“My name is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony said without turning.

“You don’t really have anything on me, you know,” Sullivan said.  “And most of what you do have can be argued off as entrapment.”

“We have plenty,” Wallace said, and Sullivan laughed again.

Tony shrugged.  “Did you know that I spent my school breaks at the home of Senator Webber more often than not, all through high school?” he asked, and he looked over his shoulder to see Sullivan’s eyes widening.  Tony turned back to face front, his point scored.

“Really?” Sullivan drawled after a moment.  “I know what that means, then,” he said.  “Hot chocolate in the middle of the night, Johnny boy coming into your room and staying till he was done.”

Tony froze, and at that moment, the doors opened.  He stepped to the side and let them hustle Sullivan out, then followed at a slower pace.  Michael had insisted that they sleep in the same room every time he’d stayed, and Tony distinctly remembered his first visit.  The senator had been away from home when they’d arrived, and when he’d gotten home, he’d been very put out about the sleeping arrangements.  Made a fuss about how they had plenty of space for the boys to have their own rooms, but Michael’s mother had told him that it was their idea, not hers, and he’d let it go.

And Michael had advised him against taking that internship.  He’d pointed out that it wouldn’t be any fun, but Tony wondered now just how much he’d known.

Feeling slightly distant and weird, he went into the observation room just in time to see Gibbs walking out of interrogation.  Wallace and Garner stayed inside with Kate, and Tony wondered vaguely what was up.  Then the door opened behind him where he stood in front of the window, and Tony turned to see a very angry Gibbs.

“DiNozzo, what are you doing here?” he demanded, and Tony just looked at him, knowing he should respond but totally unable to.  “Oh, hell!” Gibbs muttered, and Tony wasn’t sure why.  “Come with me.”  He grabbed Tony by the arm and guided him back out of the observation room and towards the elevator.

After a moment, Tony’s brain regained some semblance of sense.  “I was going to observe,” he said, gesturing vaguely back in the direction they were coming from.

“No, you’re not,” Gibbs replied.  “You’re going downstairs to spend some time with Abby.”

“But –”

“DiNozzo!”  Gibbs snapped.

Tony fell silent and got onto the elevator with Gibbs, who seemed uncharacteristically agitated.  He was sort of pacing as the elevator descended, then, halfway down, he hit the switch to stop it.  Tony turned uneasily to look at him.  “What, Boss?” he asked.

“What did he say to you?”  Tony shrugged and looked away.  “DiNozzo, what did he say?”

“He said we didn’t have anything on him,” Tony said, and Gibbs waited expectantly.  Tony took a deep breath.  “I told him that I used to summer with Senator Webber, and he got a little more alarmed at that point.”

“Okay, and . . .” Gibbs paused expectantly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony said.

“What was it?” Gibbs demanded.

“He . . .”  Tony paused and moistened his lips.  “He said he knew what that meant and implied that Webber and I had . . . that we had had sex.”

“You mean he implied that Webber had molested you,” Gibbs said.

“I was fourteen the first time I stayed there, Gibbs,” Tony protested.

“It’s still called molestation at that age.”

“Well, it didn’t happen,” Tony replied, still feeling totally unreal.  “Michael . . . I think Michael did a lot of things to protect me.”

Gibbs was silent, and Tony thought maybe they were done.  “Like what?”

“Like insisting that we share a room, and advising me against that internship when I was seventeen.”  Tony shook his head.  “It . . . I don’t believe this.”

“DiNozzo, your reaction is pretty extreme,” Gibbs said.  “And people forget –”

“I didn’t forget anything,” Tony said emphatically.  “It didn’t happen.  Don’t even suggest it.”  He remembered too much, in truth.  There were moments from his childhood he wished he could forget.

Gibbs was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat.  “I won’t be the only one to wonder,” he said.  “Not if Sullivan said that in front of –”

Tony reacted before he realized.  His hand made no dent on the elevator door, but his knuckles would be remembering the feel of it for a while.  He didn’t feel the pain immediately, just the sudden burst of anger.  “Son of a bitch!  If those two so much as breathe a word of speculation about that, I will . . . I will . . .”

“I’ll speak to them, DiNozzo.  They know better.”

“Lots of people ‘know better,’ Gibbs,” Tony snapped.  “It doesn’t stop them from doing stupid things.”

“No, that’s true,” Gibbs said dryly.  “How’s your hand?”

At that moment, Tony started to feel the pain.  He grimaced and shook his hand.  “Fine,” he muttered, but the remark had hit home.  Instead of acknowledging it, he changed the subject.  “I thought we were going to see Abby.”

“We are,” Gibbs replied, and he hit the switch.  He watched DiNozzo anxiously, wishing he could be certain that Tony’s memory was as complete as he thought it was.  The younger man’s mood slipped quickly from the fury that had led him to smash his fist into the elevator doors back to the numb blankness that he’d exhibited at the moment Gibbs had entered the observation room.  He seemed to have taken one too many emotional body blows in the last forty-eight hours.

He led the way into Abby’s lab.  She looked up with a grin.  “Hey Gibbs,” she said.  Her eyes widened, though, when she saw who was with him.  “Tony!!” she cried, and she barreled past him, flinging her arms around DiNozzo.

He let out a grunt when she hit, but he wrapped his arms around her.  Abby drew him further into the lab, and Gibbs nodded.  A dose of Abby would be good for DiNozzo.  Gibbs caught Abby’s eye when DiNozzo was looking the other way.  He mouthed words at her.  “Keep him here.”  She blinked at him, then nodded.  Satisfied, Gibbs left to go back to his interrogation.

When he reached the hallway, he ducked first into the observation room, checking to see the situation with Kate and Sullivan.  It appeared that Garner and Wallace had not left, Gibbs wasn’t certain why not.  Perhaps they mistakenly thought that Kate couldn’t handle Sullivan on her own, even cuffed as he still was.

“Has he said anything, Jack?” Gibbs asked the technician running the recording equipment.

“Yeah, but I think he believes DiNozzo’s still in here,” Jack said.

Gibbs scowled and stepped to the window, hitting the switch to let sound through.  Sullivan was leaning back in his chair, smiling lazily at Kate.  “. . . are bad looking, exactly, but Tony makes them look like mongrel dogs,” Sullivan said to Kate.  Gibbs revised his original impression.  Given their positions and the sheer rage emanating from Kate, it looked like Garner and Wallace had stayed to protect Sullivan from her.  The bastard was clearly getting a kick out of needling her, and she was letting him get to her.  Sullivan leaned closer across the table.  “I’d give him a much more serious collar than that play one he was wearing, one with a handle so I could yank him backwards while I thrust into him.”

Kate came to her feet as if propelled, but Gibbs was pleased to see that she checked herself and didn’t respond directly to Sullivan’s taunt in any other way.  “I’d better go check to see if any problems have cropped up,” she said smoothly after a second, and she left the room.  He waited, and, sure enough, the door behind him opened.  “Gibbs!” she said, sounding startled.  “Where’s Tony?  I thought he was . . . wasn’t he here?”

Gibbs turned and looked over his shoulder at her.  “He was.  He’s with Abby.”

“Good,” she said emphatically, walking over to join him at the window.  Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “That man is a piece of garbage, utter filth.  Tony shouldn’t have to listen to any more of his crap.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “If we do our jobs right, he won’t ever be coming out,” he said.

* * *

It took Tony two hours to realize that Abby was subtly heading off any thoughts he might have about leaving her lab.  It wasn’t until he said something about going to the bathroom and she offered to accompany him that he started wondering.  He declined the offer but found her waiting for him outside when he emerged.  “Abby, did Gibbs tell you to keep an eye on me?”

“No,” Abby said, but from her manner it was clearly some form of untruth.  Since Abby wasn’t given to lying, Tony guessed that it was less a lie than a strict interpretation of his question.

“Did he ask you to keep me occupied?” he asked, and she dimpled at him.

“Nope,” she said, and he could see that she’d decided to treat the Q & A as a game.

“What did he say, then?” he asked as they entered her lab again.

“Technically, he didn’t say anything,” she said with a grin.

Tony let out an exasperated sigh and sat down on the chair from her desk.  “Fine, what message did he communicate to you by whatever means he used?”

She blinked at him, clearly trying to come up with a way to sidestep the carefully worded question when they both heard a familiar ring tone.  Tony’s head came up, and his hand reached immediately for the pocket where he usually kept his cell phone.  It wasn’t there, and Abby walked over to the tub of evidence she still had to go through and fished out a little plastic bag.

He stared at the evidence bag.  “My phone is in evidence?” he said blankly.

“It was found in someone’s pocket,” she said sympathetically.  “I can’t release it yet, but . . .”  She dropped the phone back into the tub and went to her computer.  He walked over to the tub and looked down at it in dismay.  “Don’t touch!” Abby said sharply.

“I wasn’t going to.  What are you doing?”

“Calling up your phone records.  I can find out who it is that’s calling, and you can call them back from here.  That is if you want to call them back.”

Tony went to stand behind her shoulder, watching Abby do the magic that he barely understood.  After about thirty seconds had passed, his phone stopped ringing.  A moment later, a list of phone numbers scrolled down the screen and Tony scanned it, recognizing most of them.  Abby double clicked something and a little dialog box popped up.

“This is your last incoming call,” she said.

Tony knew the number, but he was having trouble remembering whose it was.  Once they were programmed in, he never really thought about them again.  He picked up the phone and dialed, remembering just as the phone began to ring exactly who the number belonged to.  Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to him, but he was committed.  “Michael Webber,” answered the voice on the other end.

“Michael?”  Tony swallowed nervously.  He had no idea why Michael was calling.  It could be good, or it could be bad.  “This is Tony.”

“Hey,” Michael said, sounding sort of tense.  “I’m outside the Navy Yard right now, trying to get past the gate guard, but not having much luck.  My dad called me and said he was here and asked me to come, so here I am.  Can you help me?”

Tony blinked.  “Sure.  I’ll call down and have them pass you through.  They’ll escort you up to our squad room, and I’ll meet you there.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, and Tony hung up, then dialed the gate.

“Who is Michael?” Abby asked after he was done.

“You know the guys who kidnapped me?”

“Senator Webber and his flunkies.”

“Michael is his son, we’ve been friends since high school.”

“You need back up?” Abby asked.

“McGee’s up there,” Tony replied.  “I’ll be fine.”  He left and went to the elevator, hoping he was right.  Upstairs, he found that McGee had shifted to the tiny desk that he usually used when he visited, and Tony was glad not to have to oust him.  He sat down, logged in and started looking through his e-mails.  They’d sort of piled up what with the undercover op and all.  Within ten minutes, Michael was coming out of the other elevator with his escort.  Tony stood up and walked around his desk, not at all certain how Michael was going to be feeling about him at the moment.

Michael seemed similarly reticent right up until he got a good look at Tony.  Then his eyes widened, and he said, “You look like crap, man.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Tony replied, leaning back against his desk with an attempt at nonchalance.

“My dad didn’t do that to you, did he?” Michael asked, gazing at the injuries he could see with concern.

Tony was about to answer when he realized that he really couldn’t.  The case was still classified, he didn’t know what was possible to release, and Michael wasn’t here as a friend but as the family member of a perp.  It made things very awkward.  “Um . . . I can’t really go into . . . things are a little . . .”

Michael flushed.  “Right, no, I wasn’t thinking.”  He took a deep breath.  “We’re going to have to talk later, when this is all over, though.”

“Yeah,” Tony said.  “I . . . uh . . . Gibbs said you called.”

“I did.  Dad called me Monday night and asked me a lot of questions about you.  It made me really nervous, the kinds of questions he was asking, like where did you work, and how could he get hold of you.”

“Well, he did that, all right,” Tony said.

“DiNozzo?”

Tony looked up, startled to see Gibbs coming into the bullpen.  “Gibbs, this is Michael.  I guess you and he spoke . . . yesterday?”  He glanced out the window at the lowering sky.  Morning from the angle of the bright spots in the clouds.

“Yes, we did,” Gibbs said.  “Mr. Webber, I assume you’re here to see your father?”  Michael nodded.  “I’m afraid I’m going to want to ask you a few questions first.”

“Of course,” Michael said.

“Kate, would you take Mr. Webber to the conference room?”

Tony hadn’t noticed Kate coming up behind Gibbs.  She gave him an odd look as she guided Michael towards the stairs.  Tony closed his eyes and waited for the lecture, but, though Gibbs didn’t leave, he also didn’t speak.  Finally, Tony opened his eyes and looked into his boss’s face.  “What?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go home?” he asked, and it was a genuine question, not a suggestion or a thinly veiled command.

Tony sighed.  A real question demanded a real answer, and he wasn’t sure he was up to real.  Still, it was Gibbs.  “I don’t want to think,” he said finally.  “There’s nothing to do there but think.  Besides, that worked out so well last time.”

Gibbs grimaced, an acknowledgment of the truth of what Tony had said.  “Could you try to stay out of trouble for five minutes, then?” he suggested.

“He’s an old friend, Gibbs, he called asking for help to get in.  What else could I do?”

“You could have referred him to me,” Gibbs said.  “Or at least called me.”

“You were in interrogation,” Tony pointed out.

Gibbs shrugged.  “If I leave you here, will I find you here when I come back?” he asked.

“Unless I go to the head,” Tony replied.

Gibbs nodded and went up the stairs.  Tony went back to his e-mail.  There was enough of it to keep him busy for a while.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an early post, but I accidentally posted Chapter 21 while I was prepping it, so I thought that probably sent out a bunch of emails and everyone was going to be disappointed because I deleted it because it was WAY early. So here's Chapter 20 a little early.

Gibbs glanced down as he reached the mezzanine and saw DiNozzo seating himself at his desk.  It wasn’t ideal from his perspective.  Ideally, DiNozzo would have some family to visit who could help him recover from this excitement, but Gibbs had never gotten the impression that DiNozzo spent much time with his family.  The younger man talked a blue streak at the best of times, but he never said much about his parents.  But Gibbs didn’t have time to worry about DiNozzo’s family life, nor really his moods.  He’d have to hope that DiNozzo could handle twenty minutes alone with his computer.

He headed to the director’s office.  The door stood open, and his secretary nodded so Gibbs went straight in.  “Agent Gibbs,” Morrow said by way of greeting.  “How stands the case?”

Gibbs shrugged.  “We’re in good shape, but I have a touchy situation.”

“Close the door, have a seat and tell me about it.”

Gibbs shut the door.  “Michael Webber is here,” he said, and Morrow’s brows went up.

“Isn’t he the one who called to let DiNozzo know that his father was asking questions about him?” Morrow asked.  Gibbs nodded.  “Has he seen DiNozzo?”

“We didn’t know he was coming, so the gate didn’t let him in, and he called DiNozzo.”

Morrow grimaced.  “Of course he did.”

“What I need to know, sir, is how much I can and should tell him.  He’s here to see his father, who will presumably tell him his version of events, whatever that is.”  The senator’s lawyers had shown up before Gibbs could speak to the man, and they’d locked him up tighter than a bank vault, though they hadn’t managed to pry him loose yet.  At this point it was a question of whether they could find a judge who would throw out the tapes of his conversation with DiNozzo.  There was no justifiable reason for throwing them out, but judges had been known to make stupider decisions, and God knew if the judge in question felt he owed Webber anything.

“I’ve looked into the young man a little,” Morrow said, glancing over at a file on the corner of his desk.  “It might interest you to know that a sealed indictment has been filed against the senator, on charges of child sexual abuse, and that his son is one of the witnesses for the prosecution.”

Gibbs blinked at him.  “That is interesting,” he said slowly.

“So far as the DA who filed the indictment knows, the senator is still unaware of these charges.”

Gibbs shook his head.  The man had plenty on his plate at this point.  “That still leaves the question of what I can tell his son,” he said.

Morrow shrugged.  “Use your judgment, Gibbs.  If you believe he’s capable of keeping the enormity of this situation under his hat permanently, tell him whatever you feel is appropriate.”

“So, the US District Attorney wants to keep it quiet?” Gibbs asked.

“Can you imagine the blow to morale this would be?”  Morrow shook his head.  “If the soldiers fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan found out that a US Senator was selling weapons to the other side . . . it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“No sir,” Gibbs said, and he found himself wondering suddenly about the wars he’d fought in.  Had Senator Webber’s cold-blooded money-making schemes existed back then?  He thanked the director and left the office, then headed into the conference room where he found Kate and Michael Webber sitting in uneasy silence.  He considered sending Kate down to keep an eye on DiNozzo, but decided against it.  He wasn’t reacting well to anything she said at the moment, so it probably wouldn’t be beneficial.  Instead, he simply walked over and sat down across from Michael Webber.

“Thank you for your help, by the way,” Gibbs said.

“What did happen?” Webber asked, leaning forward anxiously.  “Tony looks terrible, and he’s not remotely himself.”

“I can’t explain very much of the situation to you,” Gibbs replied.  “Certainly not before I’ve asked you a few questions.”

“There is something I should probably tell you.  I had to get permission first because the indictment is sealed, but my father is being charged with eleven counts of child sexual abuse.”

“My God!” Kate exclaimed.

“Yes, we are aware,” Gibbs said, earning an incredulous look from Kate.  Webber just raised an eyebrow.  “So, can you please tell me exactly why you were so concerned when your father called that you felt you should warn DiNozzo of his interest.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Webber said, and Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “Ever since I can remember, my father has had young men around, generally between the ages of sixteen and thirty.  As a senator, he has aides and interns and all that, but I became aware that there was something more going on as I got older.  For one thing, they often lived in the house with us or with him, when he was away in Washington.  We rarely went with him, you see.”

“So when you say child, you’re talking about adolescents?” Gibbs asked.

“The youngest I’ve known him to target was fifteen,” Webber said.  “The oldest . . .”  He grimaced.  “I don’t really know what he’s been doing the last ten or so years.  I’ve separated myself from him as much as possible.”

“But you didn’t try to stop him?” Kate asked.  Gibbs directed a glare at her, but Webber didn’t get angry as he’d half-expected.

“I didn’t have any direct proof,” Webber replied.  “Just what friends told me, because when I got to be thirteen or thereabouts, he started targeting my friends.  He’d start out being all buddy buddy with us, which was weird.  Then, after a while, my friends would refuse to stay the night.  One of them finally told me that . . .”  He closed his eyes and looked away.  “But not all of them told their parents, and none of the parents who knew and believed it wanted to do anything.  My father was a senator, it was embarrassing, better by far to put it in the past and move on.  I’ve heard all those excuses.”

Gibbs nodded slowly, wondering at the dynamics of that.  It seemed unusual for that kind of predator not to go after any child of the right age and gender within reach, even his own son, but either Webber didn’t recall any such attack, or he hadn’t been molested by his father.  “So, when you invited DiNozzo to stay with –”

“I didn’t!” Webber said sharply, and then he flushed.  “I . . . I would have, but by then I knew what my father was like.  No, in our first year, Tony didn’t go home over Thanksgiving break, but he didn’t say anything to any of his friends, he just . . . didn’t go.  Most of us found out when we got back, and Dad inevitably heard that ‘the DiNozzo boy’ had stayed over the holiday.  He called Mr. DiNozzo and arranged that if Tony wasn’t going home on a break, he should come to our house.  The first I heard of it was about a week before Christmas when Tony asked me why I hadn’t said anything.  I played it off, told him that I hadn’t been sure and didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“He stayed over Christmas with you?” Kate asked, sounding incredulous.  Webber looked up, wide-eyed, as if he hadn’t considered the impact what he’d been saying could have on DiNozzo’s colleagues, and Gibbs suddenly realized that this whole conversation was an invasion of DiNozzo’s privacy.  He couldn’t, in all conscience, end it, but he could minimize the invasion.

“Kate, why don’t you go see how Abby’s coming?” he said.  Kate opened her mouth to protest, but when she looked at his face, she just nodded and left.  Once the door had closed behind her, Gibbs said, “Sorry, Mr. Webber, please go on.”

Webber didn’t respond for a moment.  “Tony would hate that I’m telling you this.  I didn’t even think about the fact that . . .”

“I understand,” Gibbs said.  “But I need to know.”

Webber gazed at Gibbs for a moment.  “How well do you know Tony?”

“I’ve worked with him for two and a half years,” Gibbs replied.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Webber said.  “I’ve worked with people for longer than that without really knowing them.”

“I don’t,” Gibbs said.

Webber blinked, then he snorted.  “You know, from what Tony’s said about you, I believe that.  So, you know that Tony’s confident, man of the world, frat boy manner is . . . um . . .”

“More mask than substance?” Gibbs suggested, and Webber nodded.  “Yeah.”

“If my father had gotten hold of Tony at fourteen, he could have twisted him around so bad he’d never have known which way was up,” Webber said.  Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  The image of an insecure, adolescent DiNozzo being preyed on by a man the age of Senator Webber made him want to strangle someone.  “His instincts were good, he didn’t really like my father then, but he didn’t know why, and he felt guilty about it because Dad was being nicer to him than his own father ever was.  Dad was such a good manipulator that he could have turned that guilt into dependence.”

“And you knew that then?” Gibbs asked skeptically.

“Not in so many words,” Webber said with a shake of his head.  “But don’t forget, I had seen all those boys and young men, and I knew how desperate Tony was for approval from the older boys and the teachers.  He faked it well, but even a minor snub crushed him.  And I knew Dad wanted him.  He’d asked about him during Thanksgiving break, thinking he was being all subtle, but he’d asked about others of my friends, and I knew what had happened to them.”

“How did you stop it, then?” Gibbs asked.  “Or did you?”

Webber’s eyes widened with alarm, and his back straightened.  “Did Tony say –”

“Tony said nothing happened,” Gibbs replied.

Webber relaxed slightly.  “At first I just made sure they weren’t ever alone together for long.  Dad kept trying for a while, but there was a day when he figured out that I knew what he was up to.”

“And then?”

Webber snorted dryly, looking disgusted.  “And then he begged me not to tell Mom that I knew,” he said.  “I said that I wouldn’t, but only if he stopped coming after my friends.  He promised.  I found out later that it wasn’t the first bit of family blackmail, either.  He’d promised Mom that not only would I never know what he was doing, but that he would never touch me.”

“How old were you?” Gibbs asked.

“When I got him to promise?  Nearly sixteen.  Mom died during my senior year, and that’s when he started angling after Tony again.  He offered him that internship, and I nearly went through the roof, but I didn’t have any proof, and I couldn’t really threaten him the way my mother had.”

“Divorce?” Gibbs asked.

“Messy divorce,” Webber agreed.  “I guess she had proof that he’d had affairs with men, but I never saw it.  She told me on her deathbed that I had to watch out for him, that she’d hoped to protect me at least till I was eighteen.”  He shook his head.

“So Tony turned down the internship,” Gibbs said.

“Without much input from me, as it happened,” Webber said.  “His father was really pushing it, liked the status aspect, I’d guess.  Even if Tony had wanted it, which he didn’t, that would have turned him off it completely.  After that, Dad gave up.  Tony moved to the Midwest and was largely out of reach.  I think he may have proposed an internship again when Tony graduated, but Tony already had a job in Peoria then.”

“But why were you concerned about it now?” Gibbs asked.  “DiNozzo’s old enough to take care of himself.”

“My father’s a senator, and Tony’s a federal employee.  I wasn’t sure what pressure he might bring to bear, and I thought I’d better give him a heads up, just in case.  Tony’s on the old side, but he’s never really lost that whole adolescent air.  I was afraid . . . Dad just seemed really intent, like something had happened to spark his interest again.”

Gibbs let out a sigh.  “Oh, it did,” he said.  “It sure did.”

“What do you mean?”

Gibbs gazed at Michael Webber thoughtfully.  “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a lawyer for the CWDL.”  Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “Child Welfare Defense League,” Webber amplified.  “I work as an advocate for abused, neglected and exploited children.”

“I see,” Gibbs said.  “I guess I’d better get you to your father.  Once you’ve spoken to him, I can give you more information about the specific case.”

“I’m not his lawyer, in fact, I’m sure he’s already got at least three.”

Gibbs snorted.  “Four, actually, but you are a lawyer, he did request you.  It would be better to err on the side of caution.”

Webber shrugged.  “I can see that.  Well, let’s go.”

Gibbs walked him down to one of the interview rooms and left him there, then went to get Webber out of holding.  Mr. Beltran, one of the cadre of lawyers the senator was hiding behind, met him at the door to the holding cell.  “When are you going to bring my client in front of a judge?” he demanded.

“I don’t do that,” Gibbs pointed out.  “I’m just a grunt.  His son’s here.”

“Where is he?”

“In one of the interview rooms.”

“I’ll let the senator know.”

Beltran got the guard to let him into the cell and a few moments later Senator Webber emerged, looking dignified and embattled.  “Agent Gibbs, please take me to my son.”

Gibbs pulled out his handcuffs and Beltran said, “Surely you can dispense with those.”

“I don’t think so,” Gibbs replied.  “Senator?”

Webber put his hands out and Gibbs snapped the cuffs on, then guided him towards the elevator.  Beltran followed, bitching nonstop, but Gibbs ignored him.

“Is Tony here?” Webber asked.

Gibbs pushed the call button and didn’t respond.  DiNozzo wasn’t any of Webber’s concern, and he found himself hoping that his agent had followed instructions and remained at his desk.  If he was in the elevator, or made to get into the elevator, Gibbs was going to shoot him.  They made it to the interview room without meeting any member of his team, for which Gibbs was grateful.  He opened the door and ushered them in.  A moment later, Beltran emerged, looking disgruntled.  Gibbs didn’t comment, but he was amused.

He and Beltran stood outside the room for about ten minutes until they could hear the voices inside rising.  When it became out and out shouting, Gibbs opened the door.  Both men were on their feet, glaring over the table, and he’d caught the senator in mid-shout.  “. . . ungrateful, spoiled brat.  I paid for that fancy legal education!”

“You’re a child molester, a rapist and a felon hiding behind a sanitized public image.  Mother should have turned you in!”

“I never want to see you again!” Senator Webber snapped, and he turned to storm out.  Gibbs stepped back to let him leave.

“Stay here,” Gibbs said to Michael.  “I’ll send someone to escort you back to the conference room.”

“Thank you, Agent Gibbs.”

He returned the senator to his cell and went back for Michael.  Agent Markowicz got on the elevator at the squad room, and Gibbs caught sight of DiNozzo at his desk, working diligently.  Kate sat across from him, and he got the impression that she was worried about DiNozzo’s manner.

“How’s DiNozzo holding up?” Markowicz asked.

Gibbs turned to him.  “What do you mean?”

“He seems a little off his game.  I barely even knew he was there.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “Rough assignment.”

“Never would have thought anything could repress him,” Markowicz said.  They got off on the same floor and went in different directions.  Gibbs collected Michael Webber and returned with him to the conference room.


	21. Chapter 21

As soon as they reached the conference room, Webber said, "So, how much of Tony's current state is a result of my father's 'interview' with him?"

"Is that what he called it?" Gibbs asked.

"He told me that he sent for Tony so that they could talk man to man about something that had happened. He was nonspecific about the something, just said that he'd seen Tony in a compromising position that could have a negative impact on his career."

Gibbs ground his teeth. "He saw Tony in the midst of an undercover operation," he said. "Nothing he saw could have the slightest negative impact on DiNozzo's career."

"I'm glad to hear it," Webber said.

"Would you be willing to tell me what he told you about his 'interview' with DiNozzo?"

Webber shook his head, a wry look on his face. "He said he sent for Tony because he'd always been a better son to him than I was, and that he'd offered to help Tony of out a mess he'd gotten himself into in exchange for help in some business dealings. I asked him how Tony had gotten bruised and battered, and he implied that he'd gotten himself involved in a sexual relationship with a violent partner, and that was the mess he was offering to help with."

"Charming. How did he explain his arrest?"

"You're an overly aggressive federal agent with conspiracy theories," Webber said.

Gibbs nodded. "Mr. Webber –"

"Call me Michael, please."

"Michael, if I tell you more detail about this case, you will have to understand that it's confidential information."

"How confidential?"

"Classified," Gibbs replied. "While your father is implicated in the abduction of and assault on Agent DiNozzo, those will be among the least serious of the charges against him."

Michael gazed at him for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "Do I need to sign something?" he asked finally.

"Not at this time," Gibbs said. "We have your father on tape offering to cut DiNozzo in on his long term illegal arms racket, selling weapons to whoever wants to buy them, including those currently fighting American forces abroad."

"On tape?" Michael repeated, eyes widening. "But . . . how . . . was this a sting . . . against my dad?" he asked.

"No," Gibbs said frankly. "Senator Webber's involvement was unsuspected until he abducted DiNozzo. The fact that we caught his offer on tape is due to an accident of timing." A very fortunate accident, Gibbs thought, or they might not have found him as quickly. "DiNozzo forgot to turn in his wire after the undercover operation was ended, and when we couldn't find him later, our lab technician checked to see if it was active, and it was."

"You're kidding."

Gibbs shook his head. "When you called to warn DiNozzo, your father's people had already grabbed him."

"So, if I'd called immediately, he might not have been harmed."

There was a knock at the door. Gibbs had a strong suspicion he already knew who it was. He rose and went to the door, ready to repel DiNozzo, but when he opened it, he found McGee gazing nervously at him. "Yes?" he asked mildly, not sure why the single word seemed to make the young man even more uneasy.

"Um . . . Kate . . . Agent Todd . . . she asked me to come . . . to get you, sir. I mean Boss. I mean Gibbs."

"What is it, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Tony's, um . . . he's really . . . he's not . . . he's not himself."

"I'd picked up on that, McGee," Gibbs said, but he wondered what was up. McGee wasn't usually quite this unhinged.

"It's more than . . . Agent Todd asked me to get you."

Gibbs nodded sharply. He turned back towards the younger Webber. "Michael, please stay here. I'll be back shortly."

He hurried down the stairs and found that DiNozzo was sitting quietly at his computer, staring at the screen. Kate was sitting at her desk, watching him and looking worried. Gibbs slowed as he reached the bullpen and realized gradually why Kate was so anxious. DiNozzo wasn't moving, and he hadn't even acknowledged Gibbs' approach. Admittedly, he sometimes pretended to be less aware than he was, but that wasn't the impression Gibbs was getting now. He walked on to Kate's desk. "How long?" he asked quietly.

"I noticed about fifteen minutes ago," she said. "I don't know how long before that. I've spoken to him a couple of times, but he hasn't said a word or even looked at me."

"Have you tried touching him?" Gibbs asked.

She gestured around at the busy office. "I didn't want him to freak out in public."

Gibbs pursed his lips. "Well, he can't stay like that," he said, and he walked over beside DiNozzo. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder, and DiNozzo's whole body jerked. He looked up, eyes wide. "Boss. I – head." He got up and pushed past Gibbs and went hastily in the direction of the restroom. Gibbs watched him go, then leaned down and tapped the space bar to bring the computer off screen saver. The flying toasters disappeared and an image took their place. Gibbs stared at it for a second, fury suffusing him in an instant. Compassion and concern followed quickly on its heels. He turned off the monitor and took off after DiNozzo.

As soon as they were both out of sight, Kate got up and crossed to Tony's desk. Gibbs had turned the monitor off before he left, but she turned it on again and stared in utter shock. The screen was filled with a photograph that depicted Tony at about fourteen or fifteen, she'd guess. He stood in a large, elegantly appointed bathroom in front of a gigantic tub/shower combination, toweling his hair dry, and he was completely naked. She was fairly certain that he had no idea he was being watched, much less photographed. He looked calm and not remotely self-conscious. It was an appalling image, not least because he seemed so entirely unaware.

She glanced down at the taskbar at the bottom of the screen and saw a cluster of other files. This one was called _Tony_33_. Also open were _Tony_89_ , _Tony_7_ , _Tony_176_ , _Tony_220_ and _Tony_418._ She looked at each one. All of them showed Tony at ages ranging from about fourteen to somewhere around seventeen or eighteen, and in every photo he was in that bathroom, and he was naked. She sank slowly into Tony's chair, wondering where the other numbers were and how these had been selected.

She minimized them, one after another, and came to the source, the e-mail they'd been sent in. There was a final picture there, one of Tony playing air guitar in the bathroom, presumably before his shower, because his hair was dry. It was deeply disturbing to think that a grown man had taken photo after photo of a boy when he was naked and unaware, unable to protect himself. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Tony seeing these photos unprepared. From his reaction, she doubted sincerely that he had ever known of their existence. Each snap of the shutter had been a sexual assault, compounded on top of the fact that there was someone watching to begin with. Sending them was yet another assault. Still, had Webber done more? Had Webber . . .

"Where'd they go?" McGee asked, and Kate looked up to see him standing over her.

"The head," she replied. The e-mail header didn't show an originating address. She bit her lip. "McGee, can you trace an e-mail?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I can try."

* * *

Tony was glad to find the head empty when he reached it. He went straight into a stall and stared into the toilet, not sure how far he could control the upheaval in his gut. The door opened a moment later and he hunched reflexively, but the walls hid him completely.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure Boss, never better." That might have come across more persuasively if his voice hadn't sounded so hollow.

"I looked at your screen, DiNozzo."

Tony closed his eyes, emotionally unprepared for this news. It was a mistake, because the photos from the e-mail were just projected onto the blackness of his eyelids by his brain. "Did anyone else see?" he asked.

"I turned off the monitor before I followed you."

Tony hoped Kate wouldn't let her curiosity lead her to turn it back on. "There were seven of them, Boss," he said, aware that with the speed of his arrival, Gibbs hadn't had time to do more than glance at the one that he'd left on top. His stomach heaved, but he regained control. "Seven," he repeated, "and not all from the same time. Hell, not even all from the same year."

"In your e-mail?"

"It came in while I was sitting there," Tony said. "The first picture was embedded, the others were attached."

"Are you sure he never touched you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, and Tony recognized his tone. It meant Gibbs was treating him as a potentially emotional witness/victim.

Tony slammed his fist against the wall of the stall. "He never laid a finger on me, Gibbs," he snarled. "Damn it!" He shook his head angrily. "No one will ever believe that now, will they?" Gibbs didn't respond, and Tony answered the question himself. "How could he possibly have taken that many photos of a naked boy that he never actually messed with?"

"Do you know the answer to that?" Gibbs asked.

"He must have had some kind of a peephole or something," Tony replied. "Surveillance cameras just weren't small enough back then for there to have been something in the room."

"The mirror?" Gibbs suggested.

Tony thumped his head against the cold marble of the stall. "Maybe, I don't know." Seven pictures, all taken in the same room, the bathroom Tony had used at the Webber house. Seven pictures that showed Tony naked, cleaning up, drying off, one playing air guitar. The thought that someone had watched him – had photographed him – while he was in that private space made him feel ill. "He did it to other boys, didn't he? But . . . but he touched them."

"Yeah," Gibbs said.

"Why not me? What stopped him?" Tony realized how that sounded. "Not that I'm upset about that, I just . . . I don't . . ."

"Michael blackmailed him," Gibbs said. "Made him promise to stop messing with his friends."

Tony clenched his teeth, trying not to feel guilty that he was spared when others hadn't been. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Michael? Was he . . . did –"

"He says not."

"Do you believe him?"

Gibbs was silent for a moment, and Tony agonized over the hesitation. Finally, Gibbs spoke two words. "I do."

The door opened again, and Tony took a deep breath. He couldn't stay in the toilet all day. Gibbs walked over and started washing his hands. Tony flushed and walked out of the stall, going over to join his boss at the sink. Gibbs and he left together, but Gibbs guided him to the elevator down to Abby's lab. They'd barely stepped inside when Gibbs hit the emergency stop button. A moment of silence stretched to two. Finally, Tony bit his lip. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Those are going to have to be reported and researched, DiNozzo. You know that, right?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, Boss," he said, dismayed but not surprised.

"But you don't have to be here. I've interviewed you, you're free to go."

"Go where?" Tony asked helplessly.

"Do you think you could stand to have Michael Webber go home with you?" Gibbs asked.

Tony blinked at the elevator door, considering the question. "How do you know he'd want to go with me?" he asked bleakly. He shook his head. "However little he likes the man, I was just instrumental in getting his father arrested."

"Since he was already working hard to get him arrested for child sexual abuse, I don't think that will be a problem," Gibbs replied, and Tony looked up, startled.

"I thought you said he wasn't –"

"He's testified for the grand jury," Gibbs interjected. "I don't know the content of his testimony because the proceedings were secret."

"Right." Tony shrugged. "I can't tell him anything, though, can I?"

"The director left it to me to decide what to tell him," Gibbs said. "I was going to tell him everything. No reason you couldn't tell him instead, over beer, at your place." He grabbed Tony's shoulder and turned him to face him, their eyes meeting. "Go home, DiNozzo, and let us deal with this mess. You don't need to be here."

Tony let himself be persuaded. Gibbs left him at his desk to gather his gear and went back upstairs. About ten minutes later, he came back down with Michael. Tony looked up at Gibbs. "What about the e-mail?"

"Forward it to Kate," Gibbs said.

"Boss!" Tony exclaimed, not at all sure he wanted his prim teammate to see some of those photos.

"She's going to be part of the investigation," Gibbs said, not unkindly. "And it wouldn't do you any good to send it to me."

Tony grimaced, but he nodded and sent the e-mail. Fixing Kate with a glare, he said, "You don't open that till I'm out of the building."

Seeming utterly mystified, she shrugged. "Whatever, Tony."

He scrutinized her expression. "You looked, didn't you?" he accused.

"Looked at what, Tony?" she asked, her voice oozing boredom.

Still suspicious, but unwilling to express himself any more clearly, he closed down his computer, stood up and walked with Michael to the elevator. "Do you have a car?" he asked. "Or did you cab it?"

"I have a car," Michael replied. "Why, didn't you drive yourself over this morning?"

Tony shook his head and sighed. This was going to be a long explanation.

Gibbs turned to Kate as the elevator doors closed behind DiNozzo. "What did you make of it?"

"Senator Webber is a sick bastard," she replied darkly. She was silent for a moment, then said, "I took the liberty of . . . I already have McGee and Abby tracing the source."

He turned to her in mild surprise. He'd expected her to look; he hadn't expected her to take the initiative. "Anything yet?"

"Nope," she said, shrugging. "They said something about bouncing off servers in Taiwan, and I lost the train after that." They were both quiet, but neither of them moved to return to work. Gibbs was just about to remind her that they had a job to do when she spoke up. "Was he?" she asked, avoiding specificity with rare tact.

Gibbs considered the question. "I don't think so," he said finally.

"That's what Abby said," Kate remarked. "She said his vibe is all wrong." She sighed and started tapping on her keyboard and Gibbs went to his desk, obscurely relieved by Abby's assessment. He'd been working for maybe forty minutes when the elevator chimed. A moment later, Kate stood up. "Gibbs?" she said sharply. "I think we have a problem."

Gibbs looked up and saw Special Agent Fornell of the FBI approaching. He returned to work, apparently ignoring the intrusion and waited for the man to come to a stop in front of his desk. He continued to ignore him until he heard a loud throat-clearing cough. Without raising his head, he said, "Got a cold, Tobias?"

"No, Gibbs, I've got a senator to pick up."

"We arrested him," Gibbs said, finally looking up.

"And I've got no argument with that, but aside from his abduction of an NCIS agent, none of his crimes fall into your jurisdiction, and the FBI would investigate the abduction of a federal agent anyhow. He's ours, Jethro."

"Why don't we have a chat with the director?" Gibbs suggested, but he knew he was fighting a rearguard action. He'd known from the moment they'd brought the man in that they were going to lose him. He just didn't really want portions of this investigation leaving his hands. DiNozzo wasn't going to like it.


	22. Chapter 22

Tony had let Michael persuade him to go out for an early dinner, so they didn’t get to his apartment until after six.  He opened the door and stepped back to let Michael in.  “I see your father finally released your grandma’s furniture,” he said.

“Six months ago,” Tony replied.  “And he didn’t release it, he ran out of legal options to hang on to it.”

Michael snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

Tony threw his coat down and adjusted the heat upwards.  “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”  Michael walked across the room and looked out the window.  “So, how much of the bruising is from my dad?”

“None directly,” Tony said, pulling a couple of beers out of the fridge.  “And not much came from the kidnapping, honestly.  I was on a deep cover assignment before that.”

“On which you ran into my father?”

Tony handed Michael a beer.  “More accurately, your father saw me, and I heard his voice.  We didn’t recognize each other immediately.”

“You haven’t changed that much, Tony.”

Tony shrugged, and his lips tightened when the movement hurt.  “I was blindfolded and wearing a gag shaped like a bit.  My face was a little distorted.”  He remembered the senator’s remark about checking the yearbook, and wondered if it was really Michael’s yearbook he’d checked.  “Did you know he had photos of me?”

Michael had already opened his mouth to say something, but now he closed it and his brows knit.  “Photos?  What do you mean?”

“I mean naked photos, from the bathroom at the house in the Hamptons.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“Someone e-mailed seven of them to me at work earlier.”  Tony downed his beer.  “And that reminds me, I need a shower.”  He repressed the shudder that thought called up.

Michael leaned forward.  “Tony, are you –”

“No!” Tony said, his voice louder than he’d intended.  Softening his tone, he shook his head.  “I went straight from the kidnapping to work for a debriefing, then to the hospital, then back to work.  I really just need to get cleaned up.”

“Oh,” Michael said.  “Sure, go on and take a shower, don’t mind me.  I’ll just start looking through your caller ID to find the names of all the girls you’ve been dating.”

Tony snorted and grinned at him.  “Password for the computer is bikini,” he said.  Michael raised his eyebrows.  “E-mails are a lot more telling, Mikey,” he said.  “Besides, I have five or six games you could occupy yourself with.”

He headed into the bedroom and tossed his clothes in the general direction of the hamper.  A few of them got inside, but he was beyond caring much.  He stopped in front of the mirror, ruthlessly suppressing the desire to hide from it.  That bastard wasn’t going to change his behavior.  The bruises on his arms and torso were some of them turning entertaining shades of green and yellow, and the bites Gibbs had given him for their cover were going to be Technicolor before long.  He turned on the water and climbed in, enjoying the heat and steam a little too long for politeness to his guest.  He thought Michael would understand, though.  He heard the doorbell when his hair was full of soap.

“I’ll get it,” Michael called.

Tony bent and rinsed his head as fast as he could.  Unless it was a neighbor asking for sugar, it almost had to be someone from work.  Wouldn’t they just call, though?  He grabbed his robe, a thick, terry-cloth indulgence, and stomped his feet on the bathmat to keep from tracking too much water through the apartment.

There were voices out in the front room, two men.  He knew better than to assume that meant it wasn’t a request for sugar, though.  Lots of guys discovered a sudden need for ingredients when they invited a woman over for a home-cooked dinner.  Rubbing his hair with a towel, he went out into the living room, expecting to see either Gibbs or the neighbors he saw from time to time, but didn’t really know.  He didn’t expect what he found.

Michael was sitting on the floor in the dining area, his hands cuffed behind him around the heavy leg of the sideboard.  A bruise was darkening around a cut on his cheek.  He was staring in shock up at his father, who was pointing a gun at him, his back towards the rest of the apartment.  Tony aborted the apology he’d been about to make about his less than optimal appearance and darted a glance towards the box he kept his gun in.  It was only about fifteen feet off, and the senator didn’t seem to have noticed him yet.

He had taken one silent step towards it when Senator Webber turned towards him, the gun following his gaze to point directly at Tony’s chest.  He remembered visits to the shooting range with Michael and his father and froze.  He knew that the senator was an excellent shot.

Webber’s eyes widened and warmed when he saw how Tony was – or rather wasn’t – dressed.  “Tony!” he said by way of greeting.  “Our conversation was interrupted by your overzealous colleagues, and then no one would tell me where you were.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, a little stunned by this turn of events.  “Sir, what are you doing here?”

Webber smiled.  “John, Tony,” he said.  “You agreed to call me John.”

Tony nodded.  “Right.  John.  I forgot.”

“Of course, you were also bound hand and foot and probably humoring me.”

Tony didn’t want to address the truth of that statement.  “You didn’t answer my question, John,” he said.

“Did you set out to trap me?” Webber asked.  His eyes were dark with emotions Tony couldn’t quite untangle.  Anger was there, but it wasn’t that simple.

Tony’s mouth was dry.  “Set out?  Your guys tasered me and stuck me in the back of a van.  I didn’t set out to do anything more than go to work and get chewed out by my boss.”

“If they hadn’t interrupted, you probably would have gone straight to that Gibbs and told him everything, though, wouldn’t you?”  How did he play this?  Truth might be his best bet since Webber seemed to have sussed it out on his own, but it might be the worst possible choice.  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” Webber said, taking him off the hook.  “I’m screwed now either way.”

“So, why are you here?” Tony asked.  “What do you want?”

Webber smiled, and there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes now.  “Well, first, I’d like you to take that robe off.”

Tony stared at him.  “That is _so_ not happening,” he said.

“I guess I should have checked the peephole before I opened the door,” Michael said suddenly.  He sounded a little slurry, so the blow to his head had to be pretty serious.

“You didn’t check the peephole?” Tony asked incredulously, playing it up to see if they could distract Michael’s father.  If he could get the drop on him, maybe he could get the gun away.

“So sue me!  I thought they had everyone locked up.”

“You didn’t check the peephole!” Tony repeated.

“Boys!” Webber said, and it sounded so incredibly familiar that Tony’s gut twisted again.  It sent him back fifteen years to some of the happier times of his high school years.  “Behave.  Now, Tony, come over here.”

“John, this is crazy,” Tony said.  “What do you –”

Webber turned, pointing the gun back at his son.  Once his aim was true, he turned his head to look at Tony who had taken two steps towards his own gun.  “I will shoot him,” Webber said in a calm voice.  “I’ve given up on him entirely.”

Tony froze again.  He could risk his own life, but he couldn’t risk Michael’s, and there was a light of determination in Webber’s eyes that made him believe the flat statement.  “John, what do you want?”

“I want what I’ve wanted since I first saw you in 1985,” Webber replied, smiling.  “And this is my last chance to get it.  Michael stopped me then, now he’s going to help me get what I want.”

“Dad, this is nuts,” Michael said.

“Shut up,” Webber snarled.  “Now, Tony, I’m aiming at his leg, and I’m sure you noticed that I’ve got a suppressor.  This is a very nice building, good thick walls.  No one will hear a thing.”  Tony had noticed the suppressor, and it was a low caliber gun.  The bullets also wouldn’t penetrate the walls.

“Dad, you can’t honestly –”

Webber turned towards Michael and Tony dodged towards his gun.  A bullet whizzed past his head and shattered the mirror hanging on the wall above the table where his gun box stood.  Tony froze again.  “I’ll shoot you, too, if you make me,” Webber said.

Tony turned around slowly.  “You know, that’s seven years bad luck,” he observed.

“I’m going to prison, Tony.  You don’t get much worse luck than that.  Come here.  Now.”

Breathing deeply to control incipient panic, Tony started walking towards the gun.  He really wondered how the hell Webber had gotten loose.  Gibbs wouldn’t have let it happen, and if it had happened on his watch, he would have let Tony know.  He wouldn’t have left him to be surprised like this.

The phone rang, and Tony glanced towards it as he came to a stop about two feet away from Webber.  “I should probably get that,” he said.  Another pair of cuffs sat on the dining table, and Tony had a feeling he knew who they were for.

“I don’t think so,” Webber replied.  “Take off the robe.”

“You’ve seen it all before,” Tony said.  “It’s not like anything’s changed.”

“There’s always been glass between us before,” Webber said.  “Did you like the photos?”

“Not so much, no,” Tony said.

“I thought they’d make you feel special,” Webber said, and Tony could see he really meant it.  “I cared about you, Tony,” he said softly.  “I gave you opportunities.  I wish you’d taken that internship.  We could have had such fun.”

Tony looked over at Michael.  His friend’s eyes were closed.  “He needs medical attention,” Tony said.

“And he’ll get it when I’ve gotten what I want,” Webber said, his voice going sharp again.  Tony’s muscles were all so taut he could feel himself starting to shake from the tension.  “Take off the robe.”  The answering machine picked up the call.  Tony’s voice informed the caller that they’d reached him and that they should leave a message.  “Now, Tony.”

The beep sounded as Tony put his hands on the tie to his robe and loosened it.  Gibbs' voice, sharp and hard with anger, filled the room.  “Tony, some idiot judge freed Webber after the FBI took over his custody.  I’m trying to track him down, but call me when you get this.”

Tony decided that he was going to punch the next FBI agent he ran into and then he dropped the robe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we grow ever closer to the end, I'd like to let you know that another story will follow. It's a crossover between Supernatural and NCIS, and I hope you will enjoy it. Not a sequel, just another story.


	23. Chapter 23

Gibbs slammed the phone down on the console between the car seats.  “Damn it, Tobias!” he snarled.  The phone bounced and landed in the foot well by Kate’s feet.  She bent hastily and picked it up, checking to see if it would still work.

“The judge would have given you the same order,” Agent Fornell said.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have followed it,” Gibbs snapped.

“Morrow would have,” Fornell replied.

The engine roared louder as Gibbs floored the accelerator.  Kate grabbed the handle above the door and held on for dear life, wishing Fornell wouldn’t say things like that when Gibbs was driving.  “Try his cell phone again, Kate,” Gibbs ordered.

Kate did as he said even though she was pretty sure she’d just get the same result she’d gotten the last three times.  She hung up when she got Tony’s cheerful voice.  “Voice mail again,” she said.

Gibbs turned across three lanes of traffic.  Their wheels screeched and so did those of all the people he forced to swerve and brake.  Horns blared around them as he took two more corners with as little warning, and she heard Fornell let out a very rude word, leaning forward between the front seats.  “Gibbs, where the hell are you going?  Webber’s place is the other way.”

“I’m going to DiNozzo’s,” Gibbs replied.

“Why?”

Kate tightened her grip in anticipation.  Gibbs floored the gas again, pressing her firmly back into her seat.  Fornell exclaimed in surprise as he slammed into the back seat without warning.  “My gut,” Gibbs said grimly.  Within five minutes, he pulled up to a screeching halt, double parked in front of Tony’s building.  He was out of the car almost before he’d turned it off, and Kate followed him inside.  Fornell came after them, moving a little more sedately.

Gibbs punched the elevator button.

“Why not take the stairs if you’re so worried, Gibbs?” Fornell asked.

“Because he’s on the seventeenth floor,” Gibbs replied, acerbically.  “The stairs would not be faster.”

Kate refrained from tapping her foot, knowing that it would irritate Gibbs beyond bearing, but she hated waiting.  Maybe Gibbs’ gut was infectious, but she was getting almost as anxious as he seemed to be.

“Gibbs, you’re overreacting,” Fornell muttered.  “DiNutso’s probably not even home.”

“He’s home,” Gibbs said.

“You can’t know that,” Fornell replied.

“Yes, he can.”  Kate reached forward and pushed the button again.

“Pressing it again doesn’t actually make it . . .”  Fornell trailed off as they both turned to glare at him.

The doors opened and they moved forward as a unit.  Gibbs hit the button for the seventeenth floor and Kate crossed her arms to avoid fidgeting.  Tony would answer his phone.  He had too healthy a fear of Gibbs not to.

“What exactly is it you’re afraid of, Gibbs?” Fornell asked.  “DiNutso is a grown man, a federal agent.  He can protect himself.”  Gibbs didn’t respond.  “Jethro?”

“He’s injured,” Kate pointed out.

“Not seriously,” Fornell protested.  “Bruises, a couple of strained muscles.”

“Could you shoot the father of your best friend from high school?” Gibbs asked rhetorically.

“If he was threatening to kill me, sure,” Fornell said.

“I don’t think he’s threatening to kill DiNozzo,” Gibbs said dryly.

“What do you think he’s . . . wait, no!  He’s a child molester, Gibbs.  DiNozzo is –”

“He hit on him, Tobias,” Gibbs snapped, and Fornell broke off.  “And his typical targets are between the ages of fifteen and thirty.  His son called him a child molester _and_ a rapist.”

The elevator made a ping every time they passed a floor.  When the sixteenth floor pinged, Gibbs reached up and unholstered his gun.  Kate followed suit.

“Gibbs!” Fornell exclaimed.

“How often have you known my gut to be wrong, Fornell?” Gibbs asked.

Cursing under his breath, Fornell drew his own piece.  When the doors opened, there were people in the hallway.  Gibbs moved forward smoothly and Kate followed.  Agent Fornell pulled out his badge and said, “FBI, clear the hall.”  That got people moving, though there was a young teenage boy that had to be dragged away by his mother.  Gibbs passed Tony’s door, then flattened himself against the wall beside it, reaching out to check the knob quietly.  It was locked.  “Now what?” Fornell asked.  “We going to break down the door?”

Gibbs was already digging in his pocket.  “I thought I’d just use the key.”  Fornell scowled, but he didn’t say anything else.

Kate stepped out into the hall, ready to go through the door and Fornell plastered himself against the wall.  Gibbs turned the key in the deadbolt and then turned the knob, pushing the door open soundlessly.  Kate ghosted forward, gun held in both hands in front of her.  She turned left into the kitchen, aware that Gibbs would continue forward.  The lights were on throughout the apartment, and there were a couple of bottle caps sitting on the counter next to the church key.  She pushed open the swinging door that led into the dining area and saw Michael Webber leaning against the sideboard, his face bruised and bloody.  She knelt beside him, checking his pulse.  It was steady, but the man didn’t stir.  She rose and turned towards the front room.  A thick, terry cloth robe lay on the floor, as if it had been abandoned, and she grit her teeth against a wave of rage.

Stepping over the robe, she continued through the dining area to the front room.  In the front hall, past where she had turned off, a broken mirror hung above a small table where a gun box rested.  Gibbs and Fornell were nowhere in sight, so she guessed they had cleared the living room and gone into the back hall.  She was making her way across, keeping her eye out for any more signs of what had gone on in this apartment this evening.

As she approached the hallway that led to the bedrooms and the part of the apartment she hadn’t seen on her previous visit, she heard a voice from her left, towards the outside of the building.  “What’s going on?”  It was Tony’s voice, muffled and slightly slurred.

“Hush, Tony,” said another voice, and Kate stepped into the hall and started sidling that way.  She saw Gibbs ahead of her, but she didn’t know where Fornell was.

“Mr. Webber?” Tony said, and Kate could tell that there was something wrong with him.  Not only was his voice still slurred, he sounded confused.  “What . . . why . . .”  Tony’s voice sharpened suddenly.  “No!”

Gibbs surged forward.  “Freeze, NCIS!”  Kate sped up.  She could hear scrambling inside the room.  “Freeze!” Gibbs shouted again, stepping forward.

“You freeze, or I’ll shoot him!” Webber said.

“It’s over, Webber!” Gibbs growled, but Kate could see that he’d stopped moving.  “You can’t get away with it now.”

Kate entered the room, and the senator’s eyes flicked to her.  He sat on the bed in stocking feet, but he had managed to pull Tony across in front of him so that he blocked his whole body.  She could see that Tony’s right wrist was tied to the bed, and the senator had one arm across his chest and the gun pressed to his temple.  It looked rather like he’d been in the process of tying Tony down when Gibbs came in and had simply rolled sideways, pulling Tony with him.  Tony stared at them, his pupils enormous, and he didn’t seem remotely capable of breaking away from Webber.

“Good, now we’ve got both of you,” Webber said.  “Put your weapons down, or I’ll shoot him.”

“Not happening,” Gibbs said flatly.  “However, you’re going to let him go and step away, or I’m going to start shooting.”

Webber shook his head.  “You won’t take the chance on –”

“Sniper,” Tony said abruptly, blinking owlishly.

“What?” Webber asked.

“Gibbs . . . sniper . . . in marines,” Tony replied jerkily.  His eyes closed and he seemed briefly to lose consciousness.  Before anyone could speak, though, he stirred and muttered, “PDA.”  Then he zoned out again.

Kate compressed her lips, but she didn’t speak.

“Let him go and step away,” Gibbs ordered.

“I don’t think so,” Webber said.  The hand on Tony’s chest spread and stroked.  “He’s mine in this moment, and I’d rather that didn’t end.”  He pressed his lips to Tony’s neck and Kate had a sudden realization of what his intentions must be.  She took careful aim, but Tony’s reminder had not enhanced her confidence in her ability to miss him while hitting Webber.

She was about to glance towards Gibbs for guidance when two gunshots sounded in almost the same moment.  Blood hit the wall in two arcs and both Tony and Webber slumped to the mattress.  Kate stared in horrified shock.  In the enclosed space, she couldn’t be sure where the shots had come from and for long seconds, neither man moved.

Gibbs rushed forward and thrust the lifeless body of the senator away.  A movement to Kate’s right made her turn, and she lowered her weapon sheepishly when she saw Fornell emerging from what had to be the bathroom, holstering his own gun.

“Boss?” Tony murmured, and Kate turned back to see that Gibbs had got her partner sitting up.  Relief made her weak, and she holstered her Sig.

“You’re going to be okay, Tony,” Gibbs said.  “Kate, get him untied.”

She did so as Fornell dialed 911.  “I found Michael in the dining room,” she said.  “He was unconscious but alive.”

Fornell, phone to his ear, left to go check on him.

Gibbs shifted on the bed to let DiNozzo lean against him.  He was worried.  The younger man kept going in and out of consciousness, suggesting a severe head trauma.  He was also shivering.  “Find something I can wrap around him, would you, Kate?” Gibbs asked.  She disappeared for a moment, and returned with a quilt which Gibbs drew around DiNozzo’s shoulders.

“Michael?” Tony asked.

“He’ll be fine, Tony,” Kate said, but Gibbs shook his head.  Tony hadn’t been conscious long enough to hear the answer.

The front door crashed open, and they heard voices.  “Police!  Hands in the air!”

Gibbs looked at Kate.  She pulled her ID out and went to deal with it.  Gibbs just held Tony close and waited for the paramedics to come.  When they arrived, he left Kate and Fornell to explain the situation without a backward glance and went with DiNozzo to the hospital.  He wasn’t leaving the younger man alone anytime in the near future.  Every time he’d left DiNozzo alone outside the office in the last week, something dreadful had happened.  It was enough to make him superstitious.

Once they reached the hospital, they whisked DiNozzo into the emergency room, and several of the staff tried to peel Gibbs away from him, but he flashed his badge and simply refused to leave.  Gibbs watched them probe DiNozzo’s skull and a doctor looked over at him.  “Agent Gibbs?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“We need to do a CAT scan.”

“Lead on.”

“Sir, you really don’t need –”

“I’m staying with him,” Gibbs said.

“You can’t be in the room while the scan is being run, sir,” she said.

“I can be outside the room,” Gibbs said.  “Why are we wasting time?”

She shook her head and gave the orders.  Gibbs accompanied the technicians and waited inside the room with them while they prepped Tony for the test.  He was remaining conscious for longer periods now, but he still seemed very confused.  Mild panic would come over his features every so often, his eyes would flick around the room until they landed on Gibbs, and then he would relax.  Finally, they were all prepped, one of the technicians told Tony to stay still and they all cleared the room.  There was a window, and Gibbs claimed a good spot to kept an eye on DiNozzo.

There was something claustrophobic about having a portion of the body stuck inside the CT scanner.  It was particularly bad when it was your head.  Gibbs remembered suffering through a number of CAT scans following his head injury in the Gulf.  With DiNozzo so vague and easily disoriented, Gibbs was worried about his reactions.

The scan was pretty far along when DiNozzo started showing signs of distress.  Gibbs watched uneasily, hoping he was just uncomfortable, not on the verge of panic.  Abruptly, DiNozzo shoved himself off the platform and fell to the floor, looking around in alarm.  Gibbs was through the door before any of the techs could react.  “Tony?” he said, and DiNozzo looked up at him, his breath coming in harsh gasps engendered by fear.  “You’re okay, Tony.  Let’s get you back on the table.”

“Boss!  What happened?  Where . . .”  DiNozzo shook his head, putting his hand up in his hair and wincing.

“You need a CAT scan, DiNozzo.  Get up on the table.”

Tony let him get him back into position, and Gibbs left the room, hoping it would all be over soon.  The doctor showed up again and scrutinized the results that were coming up.  Gibbs noticed an increase in tension and walked over to look at the scans.  He gazed at the crescent shape on the screen and clenched his jaw.  “Subdural hematoma?” he asked.

The doctor turned towards him, her lips pursed.  “Yes.  What exactly is your relationship to the patient?”

Gibbs walked back over to the window, and she followed him.  “He’s one of the agents under my supervision at NCIS.”

“Do you anticipate –” she started, but DiNozzo began to panic again.  Gibbs pushed her aside and ran into the room.

“Tony, hush,” he said, putting his hands on Tony’s shoulders to keep him from sitting up too sharply and smashing his head into the top of the scanner.  “Are we done here?” he asked.

“Yes,” the doctor said.

“Then can we get him someplace a little more relaxing?” Gibbs suggested.

The doctor nodded, her lips tight.  “Agent Gibbs, we are going to have to keep Agent DiNozzo as calm as possible.”  She started moving aside, and Gibbs assumed that she wanted to tell him something that would not help keep DiNozzo calm.  “Work has no place in that equation, so I’m going to have –”

“Boss?” Tony said.  A nurse and a technician were working together to get him from the table into a wheelchair.  The doctor blocked his easy view of Gibbs, so the former marine leaned around her.

“I’m here, Tony,” Gibbs said.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Agent Gibbs, perhaps you should send for Agent DiNozzo’s family,” the doctor said firmly.

Gibbs squinted at her badge.  “Dr. Bettencourt, I –”

“Boss?” Tony said, and Gibbs walked around Bettencourt to squat beside DiNozzo.

“Yeah, Tony?”

“If you let her call my father, I’ll shoot you,” he said in a rare moment of lucidity.

“Don’t worry, Tony, I’ll take care of things.”

“Michael?”

“I don’t know, but I left Kate with him,” Gibbs said.

Tony nodded, winced and leaned back in the chair.

Gibbs rose and turned towards Dr. Bettencourt.  “I’m not leaving my man, and his family would not be calm-inducing.  You’ll have to accept that I know his situation better than you do.”

She eyed him dubiously, but nodded.  Shortly, DiNozzo was established in an room in the ICU, and Gibbs sat down beside him.  Dr. Bettencourt disappeared after DiNozzo was settled, and Gibbs used the bedside telephone to call Ducky first, and then Kate.  She reported that Michael Webber had also been admitted, but his condition seemed to be less serious than DiNozzo’s.

He looked over at his second in command.  DiNozzo’d been through hell in the last few days, and given all that had happened, he suspected that the director was going to feel duty bound to require some kind of psychological exam.  He just hoped Morrow could find someone a little more on the ball than Commander Stevens.

The door opened, and Gibbs sat sharply upright, realizing suddenly that he had drifted off sitting up.  Ducky raised an eyebrow as he pushed the door shut behind him.  “How are you feeling Jethro?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Duck,” Gibbs said, resisting the urge to rub his eyes.  He couldn’t have slept long, but it had been either a long enough or short enough nap to make his eyes feel gritty.  “I’m more worried about DiNozzo.”

“I’ve spoken to his doctor.  Our primary concern in the next few days is to keep Anthony calm and quiet.  The hematoma isn’t acute, so it should heal on its own so long as he isn’t too active.”

“That could be somewhat challenging,” Gibbs remarked.

“How so?”

“This is DiNozzo, Ducky.  He’s not good at quiet.”  Ducky’s brow furrowed, and Gibbs gazed thoughtfully at his second.  “Here in the hospital, it shouldn’t be difficult to keep him quiet, and when he’s released, he can come home with me.”

“Well, why don’t you go get some rest, Jethro?  I can sit with him.”

“I said I was fine, Duck.”

“You’re exhausted, you all are, and small wonder,” Ducky replied.  “Go, get some sleep.  I’ll make it a medical order if I have to.”

“Make it whatever you want, Ducky,” Gibbs said.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Every time DiNozzo has been out of my company for five minutes together lately, something has happened that wound up with him bruised, battered or bloody.  I’m not leaving.”  Ducky stared at him for a moment longer, clearly irritated, but then he just left the room.  Gibbs contemplated how readily he could get the medical examiner to get him some coffee.  Somehow he doubted Ducky would go for it.

Tony was still resting quietly, and Gibbs found himself drifting.  If he fell asleep again, Ducky would find people to carry him out to the car.  He sat up straight and picked up a magazine.  _Better Homes & Gardens_.  Not designed to keep a man like him awake.  Before he had time to fall asleep, Ducky re-entered the room, holding the door open.  Behind him came an orderly pushing what looked like a recliner on wheels.  “If you won’t go to your bed, Jethro, then I’ll bring a bed to you,” Ducky said.  “You can’t argue with this, Jethro.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘wanna bet?’ but he decided to give in to Ducky’s efforts.  The orderly positioned the chair and set the brake.

“I’ll stay, too, if you don’t mind,” Ducky said, and Gibbs shrugged.  He got into the recliner and before he could even think about how much he still had to do what with reports and accident reports and all the other minutiae involved in having shot a sitting U.S. senator, he fell asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Only one chapter left. A sequel is started, barely, but it won't be finished for a long, long time. It will, however, be set post Jenny, during Vance's tenure as director. It will involve a number of unlikely characters, such as Jeanne Benoit and Kate Todd. You can thank S4xE19 Grace Period for Kate, and I'll just let you mull that over._


	24. Chapter 24

Kate was startled when she walked into Tony's room to find Gibbs and Ducky both still there. Gibbs was asleep on a recliner and Ducky appeared to be doing a crossword. He looked up at her and put his finger to his lips to hush her, not that she needed the admonition. She walked on quiet feet over to the side of the bed and looked down. Tony looked pale and vulnerable, his bruises dark against his ashen skin.

She walked over to Ducky and bent down close to his ear. "What's wrong with him?"

"Subdural hematoma," Ducky said. "We just have to keep him quiet for a few days and he'll recover."

"Oh, that should be fun," she said.

"How is young Mr. Webber?" Ducky asked.

"Restive," she said. "The doctors want him to stay in bed, but he wants to come check on Tony."

"Nothing to see at the moment. You should return to him and report." Kate bit her lip and gazed at Tony. "He will still be here when you come back."

"I know, it's just . . ." Ducky nodded when she trailed off. "How about him?" she asked, jerking her head towards Gibbs.

"He is resting, finally," Ducky said. "Go. Talk to Mr. Webber and reassure him as to Anthony's condition."

"Right," Kate replied. She straightened up and looked again at Tony, then at Gibbs. Sighing, she went back outside. The trip to back to Michael's room wasn't a long one, and she found him looking irritably at the television.

He looked up as she entered and gave her a nod of welcome. "There isn't a damn thing on TV." He clicked the remote to turn it off. "I take it you didn't make it to see Tony?"

"No, I saw him. He's asleep and so is Agent Gibbs."

"He's okay?"

"He will be," Kate said with a smile, sitting down in chair she'd only just vacated. "Ducky is with him."

Michael's brows knit. "Ducky?" he said. "Isn't that the medical examiner?" Kate nodded. "Somehow that isn't as reassuring as I think you meant it to be."

Kate blinked, only then realizing how that could sound. "He's Tony's doctor," she said. "And he's a friend. Gibbs is there, too, but as I said, he's asleep." She leaned forward. "You should probably be asleep, too," she said, putting hand on his arm.

"It's been a really weird day," Michael said, giving her a pathetic look.

"Yes, it has," Kate said reflecting on the past twenty-four hours. Shaking her head, she grimaced ruefully at him. "Actually, it's been a weird week."

"Yeah, Tony mentioned an undercover op. He was going to give me the details but . . ." He shook his head. "I can't believe my father's dead."

This was the first time he'd said anything at all about his father. Kate took his hand and breathed in deeply, trying to think how to handle the situation. "Should I offer sympathy?"

"I hardly know," Michael said, and she squeezed his hand. "I was planning to get him put in jail for a long, long time, but dead . . . that ends things completely. No need for a public trial. It will be swept under the rug like always."

"But you cared about him, right?" Kate gazed into his eyes. "I mean, he was your father."

Michael shook his head. "He was a perverse bastard who used me as a procurer till I figured out what he was doing." Kate bit her lip. "He would have turned Tony inside out and had fun doing it." He lay back in the bed and sighed. "Any good feelings I had left for him were gone a long time ago."

"I'm sorry about that, then," Kate said squeezing his hand with both of hers. In a situation like this one, grief could be unbearably complicated, loss combined with guilt. "I can't imagine what that has to have been like for you."

He gazed at her for a long moment. "Tony said you could be really girly, but I hadn't seen any sign of it so far. Not till now."

Kate rolled her eyes and laughed dryly. "That sounds like Tony. Never has a nice thing to say about me."

"He likes you," Michael said, raising his eyebrows. She gave him a dubious look. "Think about it. How does he treat the people he doesn't like?" Kate shrugged. "He was always extremely polite to my father, called him 'sir' and shook hands. My mother he teased and charmed and flirted with."

"He doesn't flirt with me, and he doesn't charm me," Kate replied. "Teasing, yeah, I get a lot of that."

"You aren't a mother figure, and you aren't a romantic target. You're his partner. It's different. I'd lay you odds that if you got another team member, they'd get much the same treatment."

Kate snorted, reflecting on the way Tony behaved with McGee. "Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right. You should have heard him talk about your predecessor."

"Agent Blackadder?"

"Yeah, her. He didn't think much of her. Not so much of her personally, but her as an investigator."

Kate glanced at the clock and sighed. "It's almost seven and you've been awake all night. You need to get some sleep. Now."

"You're a stern taskmistress, Kate. Go away and I'll try."

"Good," she said, smiling. "And I'll be by to see you later."

"Just keep Tony out of trouble."

Kate nodded as she rose, though she thought that was a pretty tough task. She left the room after pulling his curtain partway shut to block out the light from the hall. McGee was sort of wandering, looking lost, so she sent him to Abby. She found a seat in the waiting area nearest Tony's room and sat down to read a magazine. It was slightly difficult to be interested in the likes of Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie with Tony in bed with a subdural hematoma. She barely knew what that was.

* * *

Gibbs sat by the bed with a crossword puzzle book, listening while Dr. Bettencourt asked Tony the standard orientation questions. Tony looked up at her with attention and a hint of flattering interest. This might have been a heartening sign in most men, but for DiNozzo it was automatic. "What do you do for a living?" Dr. Bettencourt asked.

"I am Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo," he replied with a faint grin. "NCIS."

"Good," Bettencourt said. "What year is it?"

Tony blinked for a moment and then said, "2004." Not a good sign that he had to think about it, Gibbs thought.

"Who's the president?"

Tony grinned broadly. "Howdy Doody," he replied without a pause.

Bettencourt blinked at him, looking alarmed. She started to speak, but Gibbs interrupted her. "DiNozzo, tell her who the president is," he ordered.

DiNozzo looked briefly chastened, but then he shrugged. "Howdy Doody should be president. I voted for him, but that G.W. Bush guy won."

"Okay," Dr. Bettencourt said, frowning at him. "Look, please, no jokes. This is really important, Agent DiNozzo. I –"

"Call me Tony," DiNozzo interrupted.

Gibbs caught the doctor's eye and gestured towards the door with his head. She rose and followed him to the edge of the tiny cubicle. "What, Agent Gibbs?"

"Ask him who the Secretary of the Navy is."

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Going back to DiNozzo's bed, she considered for a moment, then said, "Where do you live?"

"Washington DC." He waggled his eyebrows and added, "Do you want my address, too?" The effect was somewhat spoiled by the slight vagueness in DiNozzo's eyes.

"No, that's fine. Who is the Secretary of the Navy?"

Tony blinked at her. "Tom Morrow," he said, and then he stopped for a moment, looking confused. "No. I mean . . ."

"Don't worry about it, Agent DiNozzo," she said. "Get some rest." She glanced at Gibbs and he followed her out of the room. "We're going to want to keep him a couple of days more, Agent Gibbs. You should probably go home and get some rest yourself."

Gibbs shrugged. "Not gonna happen." He turned around and went back into DiNozzo's room. "Gordon England," he declared. "Tell her it's Gordon England."

"It doesn't matter, DiNozzo."

"But I do know the answer, Boss," DiNozzo said earnestly. "I can't fail the test."

Gibbs sighed. "It really doesn't matter, DiNozzo. It wasn't that kind of test."

"I want to go home, Boss," DiNozzo moaned.

Gibbs reached out and ruffled his agent's hair. "You will, soon as you're ready."

Tony closed his eyes, and Gibbs hoped he would be able to sleep.

* * *

Gibbs noticed immediately when Tony started slowly down the stairs. He was sanding the ribs of his boat, and one might think his focus was solid, but the minute Tony walked through the door – the open door – from the kitchen, Gibbs glanced up and then returned his attention to the task at hand. Tony was carrying a paper bag with four bottles of beer, a couple of sandwiches, some paper plates and a bag of chips. He couldn't handle it all and grab the rail, and he was still a little less than sure on his feet.

Despite his fears, staying with Gibbs hadn't proven to be all boredom and boats. Without bothering to ask permission, Abby had installed a DVD player on the upstairs TV, and she'd gone to Tony's apartment and collected a selection of his movies. Gibbs had grumbled, but it had seemed obligatory.

The thing that had Tony worried was the fact that Gibbs hadn't been to work in days. He'd been with Tony every day in the hospital, and since they'd come here, he'd been home except for periodic, brief, shopping runs. And when Tony asked him about it, he deflected like crazy.

Tony was determined to have an answer, so he was bearding the lion in his den. Gibbs hadn't been upstairs since breakfast, so unless he had snacks down here, he hadn't eaten since then. When Tony reached the bottom of the stairs, he walked across to Gibbs' workbench and cleared some space with extreme care, not wanting to damage, jostle or otherwise fold, spindle or mutilate any of Gibbs' projects. Then he put the bag down and began removing its contents.

"What's with the picnic, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked when he saw what Tony had brought.

"Just thought you could use some lunch." Tony cleared a little more space on the workbench and hopped up onto it.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and picked up one of the sandwiches. "Roast beef, huh? Leftovers from last night?"

"Hope you don't mind," Tony said.

Gibbs shook his head, took a paper plate and opened the bag of chips. "You got something on your mind, DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, I do," Tony said. He made up his own plate and popped the top off one of the beers. "And you know what it is, or you wouldn't be avoiding it so carefully every time I ask."

Gibbs sighed and sat down in the single chair that was down here. It seemed like a subtle hint against guests, but Tony knew when to ignore subtle hints. Gibbs didn't respond, but he also didn't make any attempt to deflect the conversation. He just started to eat his sandwich. Tony took a couple of bites himself and tried to figure out the best tac to take.

Gibbs spoke before he had a chance to think of a good starter. "I shot a sitting United States senator," he said bluntly, and Tony swallowed hard. He'd been trying not to think about Senator Webber. "I'm suspended with pay pending the investigation."

Tony's jaw dropped. "They suspended you for this?" he exclaimed.

"I shot and killed a U.S. senator, DiNozzo," Gibbs said flatly. "Of course they suspended me."

"But you were right," Tony said. "You saved my life."

Gibbs shook his head. "Think of it as temporarily relieved of duty."

"Is Fornell suspended?" Tony demanded.

"Yup."

Tony deflated slightly. So it wasn't an attack on Gibbs. "What about Kate?"

"What about Kate?"

"She was there, too," Tony said. "Wasn't she?" His memories of that night were mercifully fragmentary. He knew that he'd been assaulted, but he didn't really remember anything specific.

"She didn't fire her weapon," Gibbs said. He gave Tony an amused look. "You discouraged her."

"I did?" Tony asked. He couldn't guess why he'd have done something like that.

"All you said was PDA."

Tony's eyes widened. "I didn't."

"You did."

"She is never going to let me hear the end of this," he said.

Gibbs snorted. "Nope."

"Of course, I could always remind her that she destroyed the PDA."

"If you want to, I suppose you could," Gibbs said. "Not sure I would."

Tony shrugged and looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. His appetite still wasn't the best. He took another bite and washed it down with a swig of beer. They ate in a silence Kate wouldn't believe possible for several minutes. Finally, Tony cleared his throat. "So, do I have to see another psychologist before I can go back to work?"

"'Fraid so." Gibbs looked up at him. "It won't be that idiot. I made sure of that."

"Good." Tony grimaced. "Why do they always want us to go over the whole experience again? I mean, how is that supposed to help?" Gibbs shrugged and snorted. "Did McGee go back to Norfolk after his last visit?" The younger agent had come by the hospital for a short visit, but it had been awkward with McGee all tongue-tied and Tony feeling less than stellar.

"Nope. He's helping Kate with some project for the director. Staying with Abby, I think."

"You know he has kind of a thing for our little girl, don't you?" Tony asked.

Gibbs shrugged. "Abby can take care of herself," he said.

Tony put his sandwich aside and took another swallow of beer. He probably shouldn't be having too much alcohol right now. After all, he'd only been out of the hospital for a couple of days after three days in intensive care. There were some conversations that really required alcohol, however. "Where's Sullivan?"

"Hazleton," Gibbs said, and Tony was relieved to know that he was no longer being held at NCIS. He hoped it didn't show too obviously. "Everyone's clamoring for a piece of him, so he'll be busy for a while."

Something struck Tony abruptly. "At least Webber's gone. With him in their sights, the CIA or the FBI might have traded testimony for leniency in Sullivan's case." He shuddered slightly, and he could tell from Gibbs' expression that the idea wasn't new to him. Knowing his boss, it had probably occurred to him the moment Webber's name had come up. Tony could only plead temporary insanity for the fact that he hadn't yet thought of it.

Gibbs finished his beer in a long gulp and reached out for the other one. Tony handed it to him and sat back. "So, you going to have any trouble calling me boss after this?"

Tony blinked at him, surprised by the question. "No, why would I?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Just asking."

Tony thought about the last couple of weeks. "Just, Boss?" he said, and Gibbs looked up, eyes questioning. "Just don't call me boy."

"When have I ever –"

"Not good boy, not bad boy, just nothing with boy."

Gibbs nodded. "Sure, DiNozzo." DiNozzo's eyes went sort of distant, and Gibbs knew the younger man had to be caught in less than pleasant memories of the op. He cast his mind around for something to distract him. Shrugging, he asked, "Can I call you bird dog?" DiNozzo's eyes widened, and for a second Gibbs thought he'd chosen the wrong distraction. When he started laughing hysterically, it was a real relief.

Tony's head exploded. Clutching at his head, he gave Gibbs a mock-glare. "Don't make me laugh, Boss. That's just mean."

Gibbs grinned at him, and said, "Never said I was nice, DiNozzo."

Tony snorted and leaned back again.

_Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, I will start posting a new story, _Once a Cop_ , my Supernatural/NCIS crossover. Please go read it. :)


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